


Operation Rosie

by treesided_triangle



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Jack is also an asshole but slightly less so, M/M, Not even that non consensual, Plot, Smut, Smut and Angst, Some Humor, Tassiter is an asshole (so his usual self), Work In Progress, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, if thats a thing, longest fic ive written, more content to be added, pls give it a chance I know the first chapter sucks a bit but it gets good, theres aliens involved so its really cool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treesided_triangle/pseuds/treesided_triangle
Summary: "The chairman was so used to having each and every wish he could possibly think of be fulfilled at the shake of a hand, at the flicker of a wrist and the press of his fingertip against a button; to have each and every worker abide by his rules to deliver everything he wanted. And Jack would follow suit - he had no other choice. But he'd make him regret asking for it as much as he could whenever he got the chance. Because as long as he was still breathing, as long as his heart had not given up on him, he would become this man's most beloved nuisance."Jack had worked for the Hyperion company for years, a young programmer in the making with the dream of one day achieving what was now only written in the stars and on his motivational background image of a fluffy cat picture on his computer screen. As any employee, naturally he couldn’t stand the vicious and corrupt hand ruling above - but as he is forced much closer to the man than he’d like to let on, the thin line between adoration and hatred begins to blur under Jack’s footsteps through corporate life. And when a much bigger threat begins to reveal itself on the horizon, jeopardizing not only his career but both their lives, Jack gets much more than he bargained for.





	1. Clashing Revolt

**Author's Note:**

> Helllloooooooo people!!! So, I think I've fallen into this dark pit of (very, very) rare pair hell and I absolutely cannot see the exit, so I'll just continue typing away at this until my fingers fall off of my hands and I die.  
> I've developed a rather strange affinity for this ship ever since I got intrigued by the small possibility that was its existence, and so I just had to set to work and write something. This then slightly escalated into something that is, at the point I am writing this, at nearly 40k words. Whoops!  
> I just feel an oddly strong interest in the power imbalance and beautiful bickering that is the relationship of Jack and Tassiter, and really, if you look into details of the games you would deem me much less crazy. There are some hints that really got me convinced that these two must've had a relationship that was at least somewhat close, judging by the fact that (Holo) Jack at one point mentions giving a "rats ass" about his boss. Not to mention that asshole numero uno here has been my favorite character in TPS by far, and it's just a joy to hear his condescending voice mock Jack and his Vault Hunters throughout the course of it only to watch him get so satisfyingly killed by Jack for the millionth time when I start the dlc again.  
> It's a good ship, which only a low number of people seem to have found interest in - to the person that wrote the only other Tassiter/Jack fic on ao3: I've read it over five times and I love it, thank you for existing - and it's a shame, really. Untapped potential. But thats what me and my sleepless nights are here for, so strap in and get ready for one hell of a delightful mess!

If there was anything Jack had learnt during his yearlong employment at Hyperion, it was that no matter what, the cafeteria food sucked, and everyone was ready to lie, steal and cheat in order to get what they wanted. He could complain and whine about it all he liked, but the bread would only get staler and the coffee would only taste even more like it had been poured down the gutter only to then be scooped back up and poured into his cup. He really thought he'd made a good decision in taking this job; the schedule had looked promising and so did the paycheck he received every month. And it still did, nothing had really changed for the worse. In fact, the young man could proudly admit he had even climbed up the sweaty hand print soiled corporate ladder and made himself at home in one of the company's higher up positions. He now had a larger office he could call his own - though of course still not as spacious as he'd like, - more interesting job offers and a bigger budget to use for equipment and lunch money. It wasn't all that he could ask for, but most of it for sure.  
But recently it had come to a halt, abruptly and without warning, and he felt like a passenger in a train stopped due to an emergency he hadn't quite figured out yet. And he couldn't, because, well, how would he know? He hadn't done anything wrong, and if he had then he did not remember it. Sure, he might've crashed one of those many cocktail nights, the exact events of which the alcohol prevented him from recalling completely, but it really seemed to him like everybody had done that at least once in their time of employment at Hyperion. It almost felt crucial to fit in. 

Now he was stuck. It was, technically, a good place to be stuck in, comfortable both in terms of salary and the couch in his flat that he'd much rather be sitting on right now instead of the hard metal of the cafeteria bench. He took a reluctant bite of the sandwich on the plate in front of him, the hope that it would somehow taste better now to make up for the last distasteful bite he had taken quickly vanishing as he did so. Was whoever prepared these sandwiches experiencing a similar lack of satisfaction in their workplace or did they just hate every single person who likes to eat sandwiches? He set it aside again and stared back at it as if it had googly eyes to watch and judge him with. He sighed.  
Concerning and anxious thoughts had been running through Jack's head non-stop, and frankly he was growing quite sick of them. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to be a Claptrap, to live and indulge in that natural stupidity, with those little grabby robot claws and nothing else for the rest of eternity, or at least until some bandit bashed his frame in and fried his circuits to get a spark going for the weekly Tork barbeque. It would in some way be an easier life. But instead he was sat here, thinking about when and where it was that he had taken the wrong path, said the wrong thing, looked the wrong way, or stood on his two feet a bit weird. And then of course there were the board meetings he obviously wasn't a part of - Did they talk about him? What were their plans? Operation "Fire Jack And Laugh In His Face Then Hire A Claptrap Instead"?  
Jack took another bite. It wasn't good, but it was better than whatever danced around in his mind. 

With his elbow propped up on the table he cupped his face in one hand and reluctantly took to finishing up his lunch. While taking glances around the crowded cafeteria that he hoped wouldn't look too paranoid to anyone who noticed, he spotted a group of employees that undoubtedly consisted of higher ranks than his. The attire and the way they gestured while talking, the ugly gelled up hairstyles, it all pointed to a higher nosed division. He kept watching them, simply for the reason that there was nothing better to do besides chewing on what had the shape of a sandwich but lacked the taste and texture of one. The last in line of the group finished up his order and as the lunch lady handed him his tray Jack quickly averted his gaze again. He was already stuck at his position for unknown reasons, there was really no need to get in trouble with higher ups and end up back at the bottom of the ladder. One wrong eye contact could tick them off like a poorly constructed bomb. Sometimes he really wondered why he'd turned down that one job offer from Jakobs. 

They started to make their way through the rows of tables and benches, most of which were occupied. Jack did his best to seem like he hadn't just been watching them somewhat suspiciously. Despite his silent wishes they ended up choosing a table right next to him, so he'd just have to finish his food quickly. The group started talking; one female voice seemed to be the loudest when it came to the topic of who was the ugliest colleague in her department. It ended up being some guy that Jack had never heard of, and as all her companions agreed with her and started listing even uglier people they had seen in their own workspace, he decided listening in to their conversation really wasn't worth the while. As they say, time is money. 

He was just about to dump what was left of his lunch into the trash canister next to his table when one of the men spoke up. Apparently the topic had gone from the wedding cake at Jim's - whoever that was - wedding and "boys" to more serious issues while he had only been half listening, and if the drop in volume with which they spoke wasn't telling enough, what they talked about most definitely was. 

"Did you hear", one of them started, a good way to begin what was sure to be nothing more than a rumor, but it still caused Jack to sit back down in his place slowly in order to listen. "Did you hear that the boss is doing, like, stops for promotions for some people?" 

"He's doing what?", the woman said. 

"I heard Jess talk about it during dinner last night. Apparently some can't get higher positions, especially programmers I think? Don't know why he would target those though", he made a short pause to exhale. It sounded a bit like an angry bull. Then he spat, "God the guy's such a stuck up-" There was a light smack and another voice whisper-shouted, "Shut your windpipe, do you _want_ to lose your job? Wanna bet ten moonstones you will? Idiot." 

Of course! Of course, what else would it be. What else could it possibly, ever, be. Jack would've been fine with the fact that the fault was his, that he was simply stuck at his position despite his excellent work and restless efforts due to the fact that he had stumbled over his open shoelaces that one time while walking down the hallway, and the security cameras had documented every second of it and based on that the CEO had just decided that no, we cannot have such a moron representing the glorious face of our company. He would've been perfectly fine with that, he'd even ask for the video clip of him falling on his face so he could enjoy his own idiocy again and again. Maybe he'd edit it with a funky music overlay and upload it to the ECHOnet. But no! No, it turns out, the CEO was just an absolute massive [RESTRICTED DUE TO COMPANY GUIDELINES, PLEASE PURCHASE PREMIUM MEMBERSHIP TO ACCESS CURSE REGISTRY].  
Jack tried to keep himself together, he really did. He had of course done his share of using unfair business techniques where it was needed, he had smuggled his way through some things to get to where he was. He had lied and he had cheated. His slate wasn't exactly a clean one. But refusing an ascend of the ranks simply because you could? Because you were just _that_ needy for power, and for showing that you were in charge? That was where he would draw the line in the sand, if he had a stick and sand. It'd have to remain a metaphor. Moon dust would do perhaps. 

He slid his ECHO into his pocket and exited the cafeteria in a faster pace than anyone would ever leave a food place of any kind, with the one exception that they had just eaten a taco. He had a shift waiting for him in about an hour, but it could sit there and stare at him from his schedule planner a little while longer. For now, he had to deal with this.  
Once he was a good deal outside and away from crowded spaces, he pulled his ECHO recorder back out. The screen on the little device came to life and the dials lit up as he opened Contacts. This was going to be a tad bit like calling your high school crush, just much worse and with the exact polar opposite of feelings involved.  
He leaned on the railing near a window that looked out and down on Pandora. What an impressive planet. 

The dial noise in his ears rang, a loud and unusual noise, since with every other contact that wasn't the CEO the call would simply go through no matter what, and if the person didn't respond it would just save the message. But Tassiter wouldn't be Tassiter if he hadn't installed a lovely little tune that sounded like it had the title _Please Wait Patiently While You Slowly Die Inside. Also Check Out Our Hyperion Gift Shop!_  
Jack waited, fingers nervously tapping on the ice cold railing. The view out the window was gorgeous but he couldn't enjoy it. Finally the music stopped and a female voice, the secretary, answered him.

"You've reached Hyperion CEO Tassiter, how may I help you?", she said, trained and rehearsed a million times. Jack briefly wondered if she was truly happy, or if she had ever been. 

"Um", he didn't know how to start exactly, which was quite embarrassing considering he had the chance to think about what he was going to say for nearly three minutes. "Hello! Hi. This is Jack from Robotic Research. Uh, I was wondering, could I have a moment with Mr. Tassiter please?" 

"Sure, hold on a minute while I check if he is free on this day.", she responded. There was a small clunk as she set down the ECHO, and slightly audible flipping of pages.  
When she found what she was looking for she was quick to speak again, "Mr. Tassiter would be free for a meeting in about ten minutes, if that is fine with you?"

"Yes! Yes.", Jack cleared his throat. God, talking. It was hard sometimes. "That's good, that's excellent, thank you very much" 

"Glad I could be of service.", the secretary said before she ended the call. Man, she sounded like she'd never seen a pretty sunset or smelled a flower. 

Jack pushed himself from the railing he was still leaning on and went to take a step toward the direction of the CEO’s office, before he realized that the walk would be a maximum of two minutes, and that eight minutes spent sitting in the hall to the office would be eight minutes too much. He paced back and forth a little, thinking about what to do.  
What would he say? Good lord, what in the world would he even say to him? Hello, my name is Jack, even though you keep calling me John, and every attempt I make at getting you to call me Jack is futile and it'll probably keep being this way until one of us murders the other in a bloody shootout, so, how's your day going? Also, y’know, I was just wondering, why am I not getting a promotion?  
The only Hyperion brand gift reward he'd receive for that would be a bullet through the head. And it better be engraved with Tassiter's signature.  
He checked the time on his ECHO. Five more minutes to go - amazing what wonders anxious thoughts can do to pass the time. He decided he'd just walk at an extremely slow pace, like some of those poor lads down on Elpis who couldn't afford artificial gravity. Really drag it out; really look like an absolute giant idiot. He could afford it, considering that the chance he was about to be thrown out of an airlock was a billion times higher than the altitude of Helios' orbit or the chance to lose your hard earned money at those rigged gambling machines in bars. 

Jack made his way to the elevators and along empty corridors to get to the office. It was a long way but he didn't cross paths with many other employees, and he assumed that those few ones were only taking bathroom breaks. Everyone else had gone back to working their jobs, happily typing away at their keyboards or fastening screws on machinery that would someday be used to wipe out countless bandits. They were working away endlessly, restlessly, and so blissfully unaware of the corruption ruling above.  
Jack picked up the pace he was walking in even though he still was very well on time, and he soon found himself in front of the door to the waiting area. With a press on the small dial pad to its side the door slid open and revealed a room that turned out to be much less spacious than he thought it'd be. It was probably just this tiny in favor of the ridiculously huge office that awaited him.  
He sat down in one of the small chairs and not a second later was greeted by the secretary he had spoken to earlier. Her short blonde hair fell uncomfortably around her head before it reached her shoulders, looking like it wanted to be here just as little as she did, and her lips were pursed in a way that made Jack feel like he was back at one of those dreadful PTA meetings, trying his damned hardest not to act on his urge to stab Brook'Lynn’s mother Karen in her loudmouthed throat.  
Even though her bright green eyes radiated nothing but tiredness, the artificial upbeat tone in which she spoke and her forced smiles attempted to get rid of all that, to paint it over with a false sense of happiness.

She gave him one of those smiles and said, "Mr. Tassiter will speak with you shortly. Please make yourself comfortable while you wait." 

Jack nodded and turned back around in the chair. "Thanks", he said. 

A glass table in the center of the room was littered with magazines that seemed to cover nearly every topic one could think of: there were the typical robotics and engineering science papers, fashion magazines that seemed like they had been rotting away in this room for decades now, joined by finance, astronomy, and advice magazines for the best planned murder - everything.  
Jack didn't feel particularly intrigued by any of the papers, and so for the lack of something to stifle his nervous thoughts with he inspected the small room further.  
Posters of propaganda filled these walls as they did any other surface on Helios. Slogans posed on them in proud Hyperion fonts, giving empty promises and enforcing the typical corporate 'we are best' mindset. Many of these he could probably rehearse in his deepest sleep simply because he had heard and read them so many times.  
The door to the CEO's office still remained tightly shut, and a red light above it sent out a faint glow to signal that it wasn't get-thrown-out-of-an-airlock time just yet. The door's mechanism could only be opened by Tassiter and his secretary, and in some cases by very determined Claptrap units. 

The young programmer had started bouncing his leg up and down out of nervous habit, and was starting to make plans for a physics novel on why the progression of time seemed to significantly slow down in moments like these. Just as he was going to check the time on his ECHO the doors opened with a light whirring sound and an employee quickly stepped out. Her posture was hunched over, and what was left of her ruined makeup under those disheveled red bangs made it clear that whatever news she'd just received, they hadn't been good. They seemed to have been quite terrible, in fact. Jack held himself back from asking any questions as he watched the young woman rush past him and out through the waiting room's door. The secretary didn't seem particularly fazed by this which made him figure that it was a regular occurrence. 

Jack took a long breath. 

The light was now green.

The woman rose up from her desk that she seemed to pretty much live at and went over to unlock the metal door. She held her keycard in front of the scanner and it promptly lit up to show a bold green text that read, pretty much screamed in tall letters; "ACCESS GRANTED". 

Jack took a careful first step into the room and was immediately greeted by a much dimmer lighting and atmosphere. The slight purple and blue glow of Elpis' crater showered surface gave the office an eerie feeling that made Jack's skin tingle with uncertainty and anxiety. The reflective surface of Elpis seemed to be the only light source besides a desk lamp near some bookshelves that wasn't turned on and, upon further inspection, didn't look like it ever would. Jack could only guess the office roof was this unnecessarily high in order to fit Tassiter's ego into one room.  
The door had shut behind Jack after he'd stepped in; now there was complete silence that burned through his ears and mocked him without words. 

He hadn't really dared to move, waiting on a prompt to do so. Tassiter wasn't even paying attention to the poor programmer nervously stood at the office entrance, as he was scribbling away on some papers that lay scattered across his desk.  
Jack figured he just wasn't the "please, take a seat, would you like some coffee before I kill you slowly and horribly?" type, and so he finally decided to step forward. His shoes made a clunking noise against the metal floor that echoed off the office walls and was thrown back at Jack to taunt him about how loud his footsteps were and that, if he wanted to be one, he'd never have even the slightest chance at becoming an assassin or a secret agent with _those_ shoes. Thankfully his only ambition right now was to get a higher paycheck and to then race back out the room like he had just started a fire in it.  
The moment he set his foot down though he was startled by Tassiter’s voice that rang through the room. These high walls really did something to the sound in here, it was like the most unholy and godforsaken church.

"Ah, ah, ah" The CEO finally looked up from the papers to meet Jack's eyes. "Don't you know how to follow orders?" 

"Uh, I'm s-", Jack started, but couldn't get very far. 

"If you are given no instructions, just do nothing. Simple as that. Now take a seat already instead of wasting more of my time." 

Well, this was going to be unpleasant. Jack quickly made his way up the set of stairs to sit down in a small seat in front of the chairman's desk. All the while the older man glanced up from his paperwork to watch him, and Jack felt like he was being judged simply for breathing and having a heartbeat. Tassiter briefly looked back down to set one more signature on a line, then put the paper on top of a stack to his right. Being in charge of such a huge company did seem like it had heaps of paperwork to it, and sure, that was a reason to be grumpy without morning coffee and to shout at dumb children sometimes, - even though there were no children up on Helios since they were strictly prohibited, most of the workers did well enough to pose as children, as most of the time they really did act like ones - but refusing promotions, the thing Jack had almost forgotten he was here for? That definitely went far beyond what was acceptable. 

Jack let his hands fall into his lap and fidgeted with them, looking downward as well because he didn't want to meet the other's eyes unless he really had to. 

"So? What is it you're here for?", Tassiter asked after a moment of silence. "It's got to be something important because I've never seen you get up and sacrifice your beloved break for anything" 

"Oh it is something important indeed, sir", Jack said, sitting up straight in the chair that was admittedly very uncomfortable, and trying his best to hide how much he wished he'd be back in the cafeteria chewing down on three day old food. 

Tassiter leaned forward, placing both of his elbows on the desk to rest his face on his hands, bony fingers intertwined. "I'm all ears." 

"Alright, so" He really should've thought about what to say exactly, because now he was starting to lose all words in a vortex of nervousness. Again. He cleared his throat.  
"So I've been working very hard lately, not that I haven't before but, well, I can say I've definitely been very productive. Which is good of course! I've had a great time doing it, working for you and your company, no doubt", he shifted in his seat and finally worked up the courage to actually look his CEO in the eyes while he spoke, just to really get his point across. Tassiter nodded along to some things he said, but he really couldn't read whether the man was actually trying to come across as understand or if he was just mocking him in some strange way.  
"But, here's the thing, I feel like these last few months there's just, - how do I put this - there's nothing really coming out of it, you know? Because even though I've created most of the essential scripts for the new military AI, I've worked on research in cybernetics, I-" 

Tassiter cut him off, "There's no need to tell me things that I already know, John." 

Jack winced at hearing his real name, but kept his posture and continued. "What I'm saying is", he leaned forward as he spoke, an attempt to seem at least a little more intimidating and serious, as much as a lowly programmer even could, "that I want to see some improvements coming from this, in my work, my life - hell, work is my life at this point. I don't just want a promotion, I _demand_ it. You can't keep this from me."  
Jack regretted his decision to look the other in the eyes because now the face in front of him was twisting into an expression of smug amusement which just made Jack want to murder him even more than he already did. 

"It is my right as an employee-" He tapped on the office desk for emphasis, but in that moment Tassiter had apparently decided that he'd heard enough. Jack's hand he was pointing with was slammed down on the table with such a force that he was sure it would still ache for hours after. He gasped, gritting his teeth to stop a noise, but his expression gave away that he hurt. And Tassiter, of course, only grinned.  
Some time passed until he showed at least a last trace of mercy he had left and lifted his hand from where it pressed Jack's against the hard surface of the desk. Jack let out a wavering breath. 

"Don't try to be something you're not." Tassiter spat. He rose from his chair to slowly walk to Jack's side, where he leaned down to grip the back of the smaller office chair and turn it so that his employee was facing him again. Jack had already grown sick of that face. "You're not a rebel, John. You're a good little programmer who follows orders and doesn't complain." 

"This isn't fair"  
At that the chairman let out a laugh, and despite leaning down he still towered over Jack, appearing much taller than he deserved. His tongue was laced with sarcasm and superiority as he continued. "I feel like you don't know who you're working for exactly. Is your brain just that far shrunk from the wash?" He leaned in further and Jack felt the need to puke. That would probably ruin his stupid ugly suit, which would undoubtedly be amazing but would most likely get him fired immediately. 

"I pity you. No, really, I do."

He could try all he wanted but Jack wouldn't go down this easy. He couldn't. He swallowed his disgust and argued anew.  
"You can't do this. Don't you guys have some sort of committee that decides these things? How did they let this pass? How is this even legal?" The CEO rolled his eyes at the 'legal' part. "What kind of shitty business practice even is this? Sure, everyone here lies and cheats like there's no tomorrow, but that shouldn't include the ones in charge!"  
Tassiter didn't comment on anything he had said and simply stood there, staring away at his furious employee with amusement. It made Jack's blood boil even more - how he just said nothing, did nothing; he just accepted it all, the sorry state of his company and its faulty hierarchy. Not only did he accept it, he supported it and engaged in it, and it made Jack want to rip his throat out and kick him out the office airlock. 

He took a breath and continued, his voice unintentionally getting louder due to his anger. "And why me? What in the ever-loving hell have I ever done to you or to anyone for that matter! You said it yourself, I'm just a programmer. So how am I any harm to you, why would you have to stop me from advancing, what is this shady business!"  
Once again the only thing that was thrown back at him was a sly, malicious smile. Jack knew that getting him to grow increasingly frustrated was exactly what the CEO wanted. He knew it was one of the things the man would do to feel in charge of the situation, yet Jack couldn't help but fall onto the path that was thus determined for him. This level ignorance he showed was just too provoking to ignore. 

"Goddammit, answer me!" Jack reached out to grip his suit roughly, a decision he regretted instantly.  
It didn't cause the other to move much since his stance seemed pretty stable and he held the armchair as support. But still, Tassiter was closer now by an incredibly uncomfortable amount, and as he let out a low, short chuckle Jack could feel the breath on his face. He wanted to crawl out of his skin and transfer his soul into a body double, and just run. Run. 

"It's cute that you think you're the only one. It makes you feel special, doesn't it?" Jack turned his head to the side, but kept looking at the man leaning above him. He didn't want to give in while he still had something left.  
"It's what you lack, see. Without approval, you're nothing. You're reduced to an angry brainless mess like you are now. What an unsightly thing." 

Jack only let out a low grunt, still too focused on how close the other was. Too close to ignore the steady breath that touched down on his skin, or how his boss's dark eyes never stopped watching him, observing him, analyzing every smallest aspect of his behavior. He was like a human security camera with the ugliest personality. Too close for comfort, but thus at the perfect length for a good punch in the face; oh, if only it wouldn't ruin his entire career, he would enjoy every second of it.  
"I should've held you back when I first had the chance, but I've got to admit it's just too much fun to watch you struggle. Look at you now, thinking you can cause me any harm. You're acting like you own the place, when in reality _I_ own _you._ ”

The escape plans Jack had worked on in his head throughout this entire meeting came awfully close to finally being kicked into action when Tassiter positioned one of his legs on the very edge of the chair between both of Jack's so that he could lean down even further and just really get into his face. As if he wasn't already. Jack had forgotten he was still holding onto the suit jacket and immediately let go of it, though that didn't exactly help as now he had nowhere to put his hands. He settled on holding them in front of himself defensively. 

"You are so far beneath me, John. You're a little parasite is what you are, just a bug that thinks it deserves a villa for writing a few bits of code."  
He brought up his right hand that wasn't holding onto the chair and let it wander upward across Jack's chest, only touching his jacket a little as it went up, up to his shoulders, then his neck where it stopped now. Jack felt like he was trapped underneath a bomb, buried under a landmine, and that any move he'd make would be a grave mistake. He was fairly certain his breathing had sped up but at this point he couldn't tell. He tried to revolt, he really did.

"No, that's not- I don't.. ", he uttered. 

"I wonder if you even deserve it." Tassiter said. "A higher position, that is. You think it's your right, but this job, all this work; it is both a privilege and a sacrifice. You need to earn it"  
The hand began to close around his throat. Considering how much of a bitch life was to Jack, he had kind of been expecting it. 

"John" 

Jack looked up. He didn't know why he even listened. 

"Just how much would you give to get what you think you deserve?"

Jack wished he could stop the fucker from breathing into his face. Hell, he wanted to stop him from breathing altogether.  
"What are you getting at?", the young programmer asked, in a last attempt to just try and hold onto the little bit of hope he still had that this was going to turn out any other way than he thought it likely would. He could still speak fine, Tassiter wasn't putting much pressure on his throat just yet. He was sure that would change, but he was hoping he'd be sprinting out the door by the time that would occur. 

Bony fingers traced along his throat, interchanging between a light pressure and subtle touches. "Just how much do you want this, your stupid promotion? You seek approval; you want your work to be acknowledged. You want praise. Isn't that what you want?"

Jack had to remind himself to breathe. He still kept his head turned to the side but had by now stopped looking his boss in the eye. He didn't care that it was showing weakness, didn't care what exactly Tassiter made of it in the end. He was pretty weak to start out with, even if he kept pretending and telling himself that he wasn't. But it was apparent now, clear like the air after long sour rain down on Pandora in the few rare areas that weren't filled with endless desert and trash. It was apparent when the hand that wasn't gripping his throat came up to rest a bit of a way above his knee, and Jack didn't move away, he only slightly jumped from the unexpected touch. He didn't fight, and he hated it. 

"You want all these things. Want, want, want" The hand on his leg tightened, squeezing to emphasize what was being said. Or rather, spoken into his ear in a condescending tone if he ever heard one. 

"But what would you _give_ ”

Tassiter continued slowly, tracing along the inside of Jack's leg. He seemed way too pleased with the fact that the young man underneath him didn't try to defend himself.  
He finally let go of his throat to grip at Jack's hair, pulling on it. It earned him a stifled whimper. 

"For just a little bit"

The hand on Jack's leg again inched closer. 

"Tell me, John."

 

"Oh god, quit calling me John!" With a quick push of his hands Jack had forced the other man off of him, making him almost fall over. Jack tried to control his breathing, but his panic became even stronger now that he'd managed to snap and somehow free himself, at least to some degree. 

"What in the world do you think you're doi-"  
Now it was Jack's turn to cut the asshole off mid-sentence. He stood up from his chair, hating how shaky his legs were, and shouted, "You- You're just-! God, you are _totally_ insane! _What do you think you’re doing_ , I should be asking you! Holy shit why did I stand this for so long"  
Tassiter tried to move in on him again but Jack was flinging his arm at him like he was trying to keep an angry mosquito at bay. Considering his facial expression that description was pretty fitting.

"Stay away from me!", Jack said, his voice still trembling as he walked backwards and away from his boss. He went slowly and with careful steps at first until he just turned around and ran as fast as he could. He didn't dare to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end of the first chapter! Trust me, it gets better from here.  
> As always, if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes please let me know, shit can always happen especially if English is only your second language.
> 
> Find me on tumblr (not exactly a writing tumblr, but still, it's my blog): treesided-triangle


	2. Dreary Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second one, woo!  
> Poor Jackie has some juicy dreams. Enjoy.

The blue light of Jack's ECHO device taunted him, lighting up the corner of his room in a steady rhythm to alert him of a message he had missed and would much rather keep ignoring. The young programmer was sat on the bed in his living quarters, huddled underneath a blanket for both warmth and a feeling of safety of which he didn't know whether it was real or if he just wanted it to be. He stared at the blinking LED from his bed. Eventually he'd have to answer, he couldn't keep sitting here. He'd called in sick for the rest of the workday so technically he could, but emotionally, no. Of course Jack had heard the message, as the ECHO does play the calls out even when the other side of the conversation was not present or planning to pick up and answer, which Jack indeed very much wasn't.  
He had sprinted out the CEO's office like his life depended on it - to be fair it kind of did - and, not even sparing a look at the secretary's face which he was certain had not carried even a single drop of empathy or concern, he had made his way back to the floor of his living quarters quicker than a skag could eat an entire bandit in one piece. And he'd much rather be that bandit right now, would rather choose to be digested in a million pieces than trying to calm down his breathing even an hour later still.  
Jack ran a hand through his hair. He had to answer, or look at it at least. Confirm that this wasn't all a dream, though that of course would make it a nightmare, and it definitely felt like one. He reached out one hand towards his bedside table, shivering a little because with the blanket lifting up it lost a little of the warmth that had been building up while he was wrapped inside. Finally he grabbed the ECHO and lifted the small screen up to his face. One missed message, today, 5:34pm; Jack was well aware. He pressed replay with slightly shaky fingers for which he blamed the cold. 

Tassiter's voice rang out through his room, that horrible, horrible voice he'd pay a million bucks to never hear it whispered in his ear again. Unfortunately, a lower tier programmer did not have that amount of money at his disposal.  
"You'll be back, John", the recorded audio recited, the device's little metal speakers recreating a nearly perfect audio of the other's voice. With a bit of fantasy it was as if he stood right there in the room with Jack, a thought that made him want to set his bed on fire with himself still on it.  
"You know you will. We both do." 

Jack drew in a long breath of cold air while the recording continued. 

"You'll be back to ask for more, and this time, you won't run like a scared little puppy."  
There was a short pause. 

"Think it over, John."

The ECHO recording ended with a quiet click, and Jack's finger hovered over the delete button for a little while until he finally pressed it. 

Jack let the device fall out of his hands and onto his bed, and then rolled over so he wouldn't have to stare at it but instead out of the window that faced the illuminated surface of Elpis. He pulled his legs up, hugging them. Why did he feel so unsafe, so distraught? This wasn't the first time somebody had threatened him or tried to use him, had gotten so close to him that it made him want to jump out of his mortal body. But then why was he so shaken? This seemed to be a reoccurring thing; he had figured that out the moment the secretary didn't even blink when she saw the young employee's face of disgust and panic as the door to the office reopened. This happened to more people than just him, presumably. Hyperion seemed to be just as much a place for illegal business practices as it was for trauma.  
And yet he couldn't stop but think, would this be the end now? Could he just get up, buy one last goodbye lunch at the cafeteria, and then pack his things and take an escape pod ride off the station  
He turned around and buried his head in the soft pillow, hoping he'd run the slim chance of suffocating in it. Just like pretty much anything on Helios it carried the Hyperion logo, so if he succeeded in suffocating he wouldn't be the first to die from his work, and he most definitely wouldn't be the last. The pillow smelled faintly of Jack's own shampoo.  
Would Tassiter really go this far though? And would he keep the promises he'd offered; would he really give Jack his well-deserved promotion for doing, well-- The thought made him nauseous. He turned his head to the right again so he could suck in some cold air, snapping him back to reality. And reality told him that no, Tassiter would not keep his promises, none of them, not a single one. The asshole was more likely to open up an orphanage for abandoned bandit children in the Dust and then personally attend its inauguration than to do so much as to think about signing even one of the papers needed to move the programmer into a higher position. He would throw Jack out of the airlock once he was done with him, and that was all there would be. Popped eyeballs and lost dignity. 

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the empty ceiling. The ceiling stared back at him, blank as he wished his mind was now, but instead it was still racing with thoughts that he just couldn't manage to shake off. The feeling of Tassiter's hands on him wouldn't leave Jack alone, and it was like his skin burnt up where the man had touched him. The force around his throat had never gone, those fingers pressing into his skin, showing with it clearly what he wanted - power, dominance, just something to mess with. Why did he choose Jack to be his plaything? 

He sat up in the bed, throwing the blanket off of him. He needed something to take his mind off the whole absurdity of this situation. Maybe a shower would do. It'd certainly help to get rid of that awful feeling Tassiter had left everywhere he'd laid his fingers, everywhere he claimed was his to take.  
Jack sat at the edge of the bed, and after staring at the floor for a while finally gathered the strength to get up and grab new clothes and a towel from the stack of freshly washed laundry in the bathroom. He held it up to his nose and it smelled strongly of lemon, matching the yellow color. The bathroom wasn't too big but it had all it needed, and he really couldn't complain since employees on the lower ranks usually had community bathrooms, and those were pure hell. He enjoyed the privacy of having his own shower and being able to walk around with only a towel around his waist without anybody attempting to flirt with him and oftentimes failing miserably.  
He sat his clothes down on the heater, then hung up the towel on a rack and climbed into the shower. As the hot water hit his skin he immediately felt himself relax a little. This was a well-deserved breather after all that had happened, and the hot steam rising along the glass inside the shower made the outside world feel almost cut off and unreal. And he really wanted it to be; he wished that once he stepped out of here again he could simply carry on without consequence, go back to working his job and be void of worries. But they plagued him and would follow him until he'd give in to them and submit to his anxiety.  
He wasn't sick of worry without reason. The way he'd lashed out at his boss once he realized that if he didn't try to run, he would be at his mercy, and the man did not even know the definition of mercy let alone how to show it; the ECHO messages Tassiter had left, calling him back, demanding that he think about this 'deal'; and lastly, the threat of still losing his employment - it all made Jack drop that small moment of relaxation that he had, slip on it and fall into a puddle of pure and utter misery. What if he really would lose his job? Calling his own boss, the literal president of the company he worked for, "totally insane" would be a good enough reason to fire him. Even better than good enough. He'd seen people get thrown out for leaving bread crumbs all over their keyboard.  
He knew Tassiter made it a pastime to fire people; to some extend his job was mere entertainment to him. And Jack had to admit, the company was still running strong, so in some twisted way this strategy of intimidation worked. The CEO would not hesitate to do the same to him though, but for now he was waiting, patiently counting the moments until Jack would take the bait and give in. And as horrible as he felt for admitting it, he really was close to that point, to just caving in like a wrecked old building because it seemed like the easier way to go. And it looked to be the only one as well, because really, what other option was there? Revolt, revolution? Hacking the nearest escape pod and just literally firing himself out into space would be his only hope to get out of that one alive. 

He rubbed some shampoo into his hair and it filled the shower cabin with a pleasant, sweet smell. It did a well-intended attempt at making him feel better, but the effect was about as good of a job as trying to wash a monster truck with those little tower shaped buckets that kids used in order to build sand castles.  
Jack tried to refrain from thinking too much about all his worries, deciding that it was a problem for tomorrow him. Tomorrow him was already tripping down the mental stairs of the future because he had too many tomorrow problems to carry and couldn't see where he was setting his tomorrow feet anymore, but surely he would be fine, just fine.  
Jack finished his shower and grabbed the clothes from where he had placed them on the heater. The shirt smelled, of course, of lemon, as did his pants and literally every other article of clothing when it came out of the wash because evidently all of Helios only used one company owned brand of detergent. Still despite the too familiar smell the clothing fitted comfortably and hugged him in the warmth it had gathered from the heater, making him relax into it a little.  
It was way too early to be going to bed, at least on his regular schedule he'd probably still be typing away at his computer right now, but there was nothing better to do than to brush his teeth and get into the sheets. And he needed to switch that damned ECHO recorder off too, which, now that he thought about it, he likely hadn't done in years. Really, who gave a toss if somebody wanted to reach him at night? They should be getting their own share of nightly rest instead of bothering him during the little hours that he did not spend working. The reason he rarely ever switched his ECHO off at all was of course that he needed to be available for his higher ups at all times, but right now that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.  
Sitting back down on his bed he reached over to where he had placed the ECHO, and he pressed a small button at the side of the device to shut it down. The near complete darkness that fell over his room once the bright blinking LED was gone felt unusual but somehow calming at the same time. The only remaining dim light again was reaching through his windows from Elpis. He stared at the giant moon in orbit, observing its craters and the settlements he couldn't see but knew were there. It was so far away and out of reach, still such a mystery of a rock to him. It really did look like it bore some secrets in its molten core, but he wouldn't ever be able to even scratch the meteoroid splattered surface to uncover them. Observe it was the command, observe the moon. Well, he was. And what was coming out of this? Nothing, nothing at all it was. No results, no useful ones at least. Sure, he had no say in what the Hyperion troops planned, what the scientists decided was worth working on and what wasn't. But there was a lot that he'd give to be able to have more influence on this than just being an obedient little code monkey. He'd love to someday set foot on the moon he was only allowed to gaze at for now. Though he had to admit it was an enjoyable sight - a giant, so peaceful and unmoved by what was going on on its surface or down below. If surgeries had the option to just become a literal moon, Jack would take that offer any day. 

He stood up one final time to pull the curtains closed, then slumped back down on his bed and hugged the covers. The hint of a headache greeted him when his head hit the pillow, but he chose to ignore it, hoping that it wouldn't get any worse until he would tumble off into a deep sleep. Thankfully now the Gods had decided that yeah, he had definitely had his fair share of suffering for today. The poor guy deserved some rest for once.  
Jack drifted off into sleep with only the dull sound of machinery whirring away somewhere in the distance, turning and screwing and tirelessly working, like he would do again tomorrow. 

 

With blurry vision his head spun, turning, pounding. Disoriented in darkness, down, spinning deep down, there was only the sensation of feeling that guided him. Hands, so many of them, and fingers, there were countless. Gripping, touching, holding him, choking him.  
Possessive, demanding-- loving?  
No. Hate, they were filled with it, to the brim with the ice of loathing. And hot, too hot his flesh burned where the limbs touched, and a crater of the deepest frost they left behind in their wake. A pair of hands settled around his throat; he couldn't breathe. But could he ever? He gasped when one hand suddenly lifted, just slightly, like a toddler who had been kicking a puppy leaning back down to pet it again and make it feel a false sense of safety.  
A loving touch?  
No. Hate, hatred was what moved the same hand back on his skin, his face now. It stung. It was like kissing the sun and burning up. He gasped for air but found none in his lungs, not anywhere. His eyes were closed and he kept them this way; feeling was enough to lead him down his path of despair and pain. A thumb stroked along his cheek, down to his lips, softly, slowly, so unnecessarily careful.  
But was it loving? Was there someone full of care for him, or someone who was just careful for themselves?  
The thumb settled on his lips and forced them to part. Selfish, greedy-- He couldn't breathe. He had ignored the other hands, and now they came back to make sure he was still aware of their efforts, and show what was theirs. They circled him like hungry vultures, desperate, waiting to take their bait. He couldn't pinpoint where they touched; they did so everywhere and nowhere at once, rising deepest ice and erupting lava throughout his body, ever needy, never sated.  
A loving touch? Where they creeped up his legs, dragged red lines upward along his chest, gripped his hair and his throat to cut off the air he never had?  
No.  
They despised him as they touched him, his lips, his thighs. Fingertips that were painted with a need for his suffering dug into his skin, his neck and his upper thighs where they forced his legs apart. The hand at his lips kept playing with them, like he was the one who wasn't real, only entertainment for the time being. Hot, too hot; the sun. The thumb dared to dip inside, filling his tongue with the same iridescently bright heat. He was burning up, both from the outside and now inside. Hot, too hot. Touches, everywhere. And instead of resisting the thumb, instead of choking on it, instead his mouth opened, eager, too eager, without him ordering it to.  
He couldn't remember. There was no air to scream. Why did he give in? The moonlights seemed too bright. They blinded him. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. There was no air to scream. Why did he give in? To the loving touch? Was it? Was it loving? Was it easier to just give himself away? What was it really worth?  
The hand moved, retreating from his mouth.  
Then he felt cold lips on his, stifling the heat inside. It was hatred that had moved them there.  
So why did he kiss back? 

 

Jack awoke with a gasp, clutching his blanket that he found wasn't there anymore. It lay beside him, with only his legs still tangled in it, and consequently he was freezing, bare in the icy air of his small apartment. His heart pounded, as did his head with a stinging pain pulsating right behind his eyes and maliciously spreading backwards.  
He could breathe again. He could breathe.  
He sat up, finally opening his eyes to find a room still covered in complete darkness. It had to be the middle of night, or at least as well as the description of nighttime fitted the artificial sleep cycles which he had to follow. He let himself fall back down on the hard mattress and pulled the blanket over from the side.  
He could breathe again.  
What was that dream? It had felt like an eternity of choking to death without his life actually leaving him, making him struggle endlessly amidst a void filled with only those unforgiving bodiless limbs to taunt him. He knew who his subconscious wanted them to belong to, but he didn't, for reasons that were quite obvious. Jack decided that this was, once again, an issue he really did not desire to face right now. He rolled over on his side, facing away from the curtain covered windows. He could now see the light glow of the bedside clock digits, a faint green shimmer that told him he had fallen right into that weird window of time where it wasn't just too early to get up, but was also too late to fall back asleep again properly.  
Letting his right hand drop down over the bed frame, he reached to the ground with his fingers, making them do a little running motion up and down along the cold floor. After a small while he sighed and let his arm fall limp at his side, closing his eyes and hoping that he'd drop back to sleep again. Even if it was restless, he'd take it. He'd take pretty much anything at this point; he was just that desperate for rest. His body felt like it tingled at places, and light shivers ran through him. Whether that sensation came from the adrenaline of being jerked awake, or the reason he was awake now in the first place, he did not know. The only thing he knew was that he'd have to show up to work again tomorrow and be his usual self who was expected to show his usual level of productivity, sleep deprivation or not. And so he forced his eyes to remain closed despite his mind's pleas to stay awake and prevent the possibility of another nightmare. He let out a tired sigh and, following some advice he'd heard in an ECHOcast a long while ago, he tried to even out his breathing to somehow sink into a calmer heartbeat and thus back into a, now for the remaining night thankfully dreamless, sleep.


	3. Incalculable Desire (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to fix some of the formatting in this chapter, I'll come back to that later. Hope it isn't too bad.   
> This is where it gets interesting, so enjoy!

Now, in terms of skill that one needed to do it, calculating risks wasn't hard. Even an old CL4P-TP unit that was close to its natural deactivation could come up with an at least halfway accurate prediction for who was going to kick it in its robotic eye next, and it could accurately state the probability of that same person laughing while taking a picture to post it on the ECHOnet later. That chance was of course a steady 100%. But life wasn't predictable, life wasn't easily broken down into numbers and code, something Jack would be good at. Life was chaotic and cruel; it was something he couldn't put down on a sheet with pen and paper. But he could try.  
Another crumpled up paper was thrown at and then missed the bin to join countless others on the floor next to Jack's work desk. He had long abandoned the code he should be working on, and the holographic screen in front of him was flashing with a slideshow of cat photos as a screensaver. His hand was beginning to hurt due to the force with which he set his pen down on the paper as he scribbled. 

"Sir- no, no. Not the usual Sir. Mr. Tas- No, no, that's ugly. Goddammit..." he muttered under his breath while he wrote, immediately discarding one idea after he'd thrown the previous into the bin. He would refrain from wasting too much paper, not because of the environment or anything of that unnecessary sort, but because every employee only had a limited amount of paper at their annual disposal. Normally, the amount he got was enough, but at the rate he was going now it was only a matter of time and increasing frustration until he'd be refused access to the workplace printers for another motivational poster to cover his apartment walls. 

Jack started the beginning to another sentence, then promptly crossed out what he'd written and began anew. For hours now he'd been trying to come up with what he'd say to the CEO once he'd face him again, which would have to be sometime soon if he wanted to reduce his risks of dying a painful death. Sure, he still had the option of just running away, booking it like the coward he was pretending not to be and jumping into the next escape ship or pod that'd kill him on the way to whatever hellhole its autopilot would decide to launch him to. He still had that option, and while it did seem attractive to not die at Tassiter's hands but instead by suffocating and/or exploding in the middle of empty space, the alternative still ran a slim - very slim, about Moxxi's hips slim - chance of him getting out alive - very traumatized, but alive. And so he was holding onto that irrational hope that his mental calculations had provided him with, and he kept writing his small useless notes, something that was becoming exponentially more frustrating than the job he was supposed to be working and getting paid for. 

"I'm here for the... the- deal? Suggestion? Proposal..? No, that sounds stupid, all of that makes me sound like a friggin’ moron"  
He rubbed his temple. "This isn't going anywhere", he said with a sigh, finally setting his pen down on a sheet with a list of bullet points that lay next to the keyboard. It was the only note that hadn't said its friendly hello to the trash yet, and it looked like it'd continue to be the only one. 

The office chair creaked lightly as he stood up, and he grabbed his coffee mug for a probably undeserved break. It was Jack's favorite mug, sporting a big font that read "#1 Programmer". His department had provided it as a birthday gift one year back, and sure it'd been one month late, and there had been a typo in the word 'Programmer' which he corrected with sharpie, but it was statistically speaking the nicest mug he had because it was his only one. There was only little left of his morning coffee and it had to be at least an unpleasant lukewarm by now, but it was better than nothing.  
He left his small cubicle to stand outside for a while and enjoy his favorite way to pass the time: staring into nothing and hoping for something. 'Outside' in this case was defined as being anywhere that was neither his workspace, nor the room where smokers have given themselves the task of setting off every single smoke alarm on Helios and making other people's poor lungs shrivel up and die in the process.

At last he managed to find a somewhat quiet space on a bench near some flowers. Jack wondered how the feeble plants could even begin to take root in a space station so void of love and care. It meant there had to be someone out there who bothered enough about a thing as silly and useless to Hyperion's cause as flowers, and that gave him a somewhat reassuring feeling. Staring off into the space of the nearby living quarters absentmindedly, Jack sipped from his mug, but regretted it the second the cold coffee hit his tongue. He spit it out, and, making sure that no one was looking, poured the rest of it into one of the flower pots. It should work like fertilizer, right? He was sure it would.  
The programmer didn't quite know what his next move should be now. The numbers spoke clearly that his chance of losing both his job and his life were higher if he just ran, but in comparison the option of meeting up with Tassiter again gave him the much weaker and indefinitely more fearsome tow. But what was in it for him if he just chose the easy way? 

He was about to search the ECHOnet on information about whether plants grow faster when you pour their earth with coffee when the small device began blinking to warn him of an incoming voice chat. Jack knew who the call came from without having to see the tiny icon that flickered on the display, and unfailingly within only a second later the CEO's voice greeted him once again. 

"John.", he simply said. What a nice way to say hello. 

"Good day to you too, Sir, how's the weather? Oh wait, we are both on a space station, we have no weather"

"Cut it out, oxymoron. You know precisely what I'm calling you for, and don't pretend that you've forgotten. You may act like you've got severe brain damage, but I know you're at least that capable." 

"I'm pretty sure you're the one who hired me here, so yes, I am in possession of critical thinking skills, thank you very much." 

At that, the line went quiet for a long second. Jack shifted lightly on the metal bench. "Are you trying to be sassy with me now?" Tassiter said, as intellectually condescending as ever. "Because it's not working."  
When Jack chose not to answer, he simply continued, "Meet me at my office in ten minutes if you truly do value this job and the stupidly high paycheck that comes with it. To which I should add, the same value applies to your status as a living human being, because you won't be one much longer if you decide to chicken out.

And John." Oh, how Jack hoped this deal would include never having to be called that name again.  
"Don't you be a millisecond late. You've already accrued two hours of overtime this year for being late to work."

"You actually have a clock that counts milliseconds?" 

A small sigh went through the ECHO's metallic speakers. "Later, John. And please, wear something nice for once."

"Well, what if I don’t-" The call ended with a click. "Have anything.. Nice.. Huh."  
He dropped the hand he was holding his ECHO in, slumping his whole body down into a position on the bench that must've looked pretty uncomfortable to any passerby with experience of back problems.  
"Asshole", Jack said under his breath. 

What was he thinking, that he was in any position to actually cause harm to him? Sure, he was still the CEO, - hopefully not for much longer - but even he had to abide by rules. A bunch of rules. Well, at least one rule. Right? Jack's life wasn't in actual danger. One couldn't just kill one's own employees for nothing. Tassiter couldn't do that.  
Right? Yeah, right. 

Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.  
Wear something nice, pfft. Like hell he would. He'd put on his ugliest suit and pull off the most mismatching tie and shoe combo to ever exist, just to spite that money grabbing fucker - if he actually went to his office that is, which he most certainly did not plan on doing. Right? 

Jack shoved the ECHO back into his pant pocket. Reluctantly, he fetched his mug and got up from the bench he was still sitting on. The flowers in front of him were still filled with some sense of beauty, but it had become distant and cloudy.  
Deep down he'd known there'd come a point where he'd just have to admit and accept defeat. He'd thought it'd be about something more honorary, such as going down in a bloody shootout and being known post mortem as a hero among his company; a fantasy along those lines, and not whatever mess he was about to face.  
Not quite knowing in what direction he was to set his foot because he'd end up stumbling upon one unpleasant experience after the next no matter where he ran to, Jack decided to just make his way back to his desk to put back his stupid mug and switch off his computer. Thankfully with this company and its employee's mindsets no one batted even half an eye when others came back from an unusually long break, because frankly why should they. Everybody was on their own, working their own lives away, so who gave a toss if a guy had a smoke for 40 minutes or had taken half an hour to finish a nearly empty coffee mug - after all those weren't your own over hours. 

Jack didn't even bother sitting back down on his chair again, seeing as if he were to get murdered for this, he'd rather not have his bloody remains spilling all over his nice holograph compatible PC and keyboard. That had cost him a fortune.  
He shut down the computer and let it run a few last system updates. Noticing the small note on his desk that he'd almost forgotten about, he picked it up and shoved it into his pockets hurriedly. He moved the coffee mug out of the way to look for his replacement pen and stashed it in his pockets as well. 

Eight more minutes. 

Should he even get dressed in something different? All the clothing he had was Hyperion issued anyway - suits, jackets and shirts, his pants, hell, even his socks and underwear. If he ever had to be pulled out of a crashed spaceship or vehicle, one quick look at his remaining clothing would immediately tell what company to send the check for the body's disposal to. 

Technically, he'd still have about eight straight hours of work left for this day. Technically, what he was about to will into doing was considered illegal in most rulebooks. Realistically, at this point he did not care.  
He left his desk as if he was planning to return to it at the same day, though he knew the chance of that happening was nearing zero like a plane in its final descent. That too was a nice imagery to mirror Jack's current feelings perfectly as they were when he stepped out of the office doors again, the front instead of the back door this time. The atmosphere was just as bad now as it had been inside the office, if not worse, and he mentally slapped himself for thinking that the well ventilated air inside the CEO's office would be a pleasant change again. 

Jack went at a fairly slow pace at first, but the panic began to settle in his stomach after a few steps and he began something that wasn't quite running, not exactly a jog either, but close to the way you'd start to back away from a bloodthirsty rakk that you had spotted far off in the distance. He didn't want to break into a sweat but his nervousness was already working away at that job very productively. The distance to the office wasn't even that great, but then again if Tassiter was to keep his word Jack's literal life was on the line, and he wasn't too keen on his gravestone carrying the lettering "Died because he ran like a little baby with no legs. May he rest in peace. He probably wouldn't bother getting up anyway".

When the digital watch on Jack's ECHO recorder showed that he had about five minutes left, he had just reached the elevator that'd take him immediately up to the small waiting room. This was a different route than the one he'd taken last time, and he hoped it'd be a faster one.  
The elevator opened with a 'Ding!' just a few seconds after he'd pressed the button to call it down, one of many representations of this company's need for hurry and efficiency.  
The ride up was just as quick, and much, much sooner than he liked he was stood at the front desk of the waiting room once again. This time he seemed to be on his own since the secretary was currently God knows where doing God knows what. The devil's - Tassiter's - work, probably. 

Jack rested his elbows on the counter to calm his nerves and support his seemingly gradually increasing body mass. His bones felt heavy with the regret of having stepped into this part of the space station once again, this time knowing almost exactly what would await him behind those intimidating sealed metal doors. First an ugly face, then an ugly fate.  
He tried to peak around the corner into the back room that looked to be behind the wall next to the waiting desk, but there was no chance to spot anything from where he was. And he refused to cross the line of breaking into the room of Tassiter's secretary just to still the need to know what she was occupied with, because if coming here wasn't already the most irrational and mind bogglingly idiotic thing he could've done, then attempting that would undoubtedly take the crown.  
With nervous fingers of one hand tapping on the table he got out his ECHO again to look at the time that had passed even though it had felt like neither space nor time had moved even in the slightest. It felt like he was the laughing stock of every single atom in the universe so that even the concept of time had managed to bend in a way that it overpassed him.  
He was on time, very well on time, probably earlier than he'd ever been to any of the unnecessary meetings he had to attend sometimes. So he could rule out that this was a trap of some sort, since he'd lived up to his part of the bargain - although, while it was a trap in a sense of the word, it was one he'd walked into willingly.  
Tired of waiting he pushed himself off the countertop and walked towards the screen next to the office doors. He'd seen the secretary unlock it with her membership card the last time he was here, and out of plain boredom and interest in its technology he felt the need to take a closer look. The instant his finger tapped the screen, the two loudspeakers above the doors activated with a screeching sound. The CEO's voice rang out, clearly addressing the young employee stood at the entrance. 

"Trying to break into my office, are we?", the speakers transferred his voice in a weird way, making it sound dragged out, old and metallic. It was like listening to a distant station on an old radio. "Trust me, whatever coding experience you'd need to get that door to open, you wouldn't be able to acquire it over however long of a time you're going to plague us all with your existence. And I think I speak for everyone when I say I hope that won't be long." 

"If I'll have to keep listening to you talk, you're not gonna be the only one wishing that it'll be over quick”, Jack said, not quite knowing where he should direct his gaze to as he spoke since he couldn't seem to find any security cameras around that Tassiter could be watching him through. 

"Well, frankly John, if you wanted to die then you wouldn't have come here. But now would you look at that, you did decide to show up. And a whole three minutes early as well, my god! Did a gust of wind sweep you up on your feet and carry you through the corridors? Or did you really find all the long, long way over here on your very own, with body that sluggish and a brain that empty?" 

Jack didn't bother thinking of a clever remark and instead crossed his arms as he listened to the other man monologue away about how brainless he was and how his head couldn't even fit an ant's breakfast into it, whatever that creative insult was supposed to mean.  
"You done?", he asked once the static silence returned to the loudspeakers. 

"I could list off reasons for your infinitesimal expertise until the day I bite the dust, but sure, I'll open up the door now. That's what you've come here for after all, isn't it? I wouldn't want to keep that from you."  
Jack rolled his eyes, hoping that Tassiter would see his reaction.

The doors finally slid apart with a familiar whirring, opening his view once again to the office that should be the incentive for an introduction of legal ceiling height limitations.  
This time the CEO wasn't sitting at his desk pondering over stacks of paperwork that were thicker than the biggest novel Jack had ever seen. Instead, the man was looking out into space through the giant windows that helped create that eerie, alien feeling of his icy office, standing perfectly still with his hands folded behind his back and a steady gaze fixated on Elpis below. Jack inched closer with careful steps that echoed on the dark marble floor and bounced back off the tall walls, assuming that this time he need not ask again to be allowed to walk up to him. And in fact Tassiter didn't move, he didn't even turn around to greet Jack once he stopped and stood right in front of the office desk. 

Jack waited for a bit, fidgeting with his thumbs. He checked every once in a while whether Tassiter had moved from his spot in front of the window, but the man didn't even speak. He just wanted to get this over with, was that too much to ask? 

Finally then his boss decided to be somewhat kind at least once - and probably for the first time in his life - and he turned his head slightly to look at Jack.  
"Ah, there we are", he said, analyzing his employee with a judging eye. 

"Have been for a while, yes."

"Good. I would've added it to your overtime hours if I hadn't promised to kill you instead.” He made a small pause to clear his throat, and then continued, "Now shut your profanity spewing windpipe before I do so and get over here, John."  
A strong trace of exasperation was evident both in Tassiter's voice and his face, and he even urged Jack to do what he'd said by waving his hand. But lord, was there a single fragment of a second where he could refrain from insulting him? Sure, Jack wouldn't dare to think about taking anything the man said to heart, but it was becoming slightly annoying to listen to him come up with provocative comments and names which Jack couldn't even dream about putting together. It was like Tourette’s, but for assholes.  
He had no other choice but to follow his instructions. It was just like regular work - do this, fetch that for me, run those ten errands. Deactivate that Claptrap, get me a sandwich. Get forced into a mess of a sexual relationship for a promotion. Perfectly normal work. 

"Look at her", Tassiter said once Jack had joined him at the window. 

"Who, Sir? Oh the- okay, alright, the moon. Yes. I'm looking, what else would I be looking at"

"See what those lunatic idiots at Dahl ruined? What used to be beautiful? It's all just lava and ugly volcanoes now, John. Like they've popped open some ugly zit." He pulled a face of disgust. 

"Well when you put it like that it does sound super unattractive. But, I don't know," Jack shifted the weight on his legs, looking over to catch a very quick glance of the slightly taller man next to him. He was listening attentively, or at least he looked like he did.  
"I still think it's kind of pretty. From this far away you can't even see most of the lava on the surface", Jack said. 

"That's why we're here to observe that boiling mess of a moon and its equally idiotic planet. Only a suicide addicted idiot would set a foot on that moon dust." 

Jack only nodded. His anxiety was still dancing around on his future grave.

"Well," Tassiter began, turning around to face Jack with more than just the one half of his face. He probably thought that was more than he deserved.  
"It’s easy to get sidetracked with a view like this. Can you judge me?" He gestured towards the window as he spoke. "No you can't. Now, _John..._ Let's get to business, shall we?" 

Jack took a breath. "Sure, yes. Business"

He tried his hardest not to back away and bump into the table when the CEO gradually came closer to him with calculated steps. Jack had chosen not to stand directly next to him at the window but now that distance was being closed quicker than a zip up jacket. He kept his ground while Tassiter's eyes wandered down and then back up along his body, and he felt like he was being put through a scanner again - but the scanner was human and gained large amounts of satisfaction from insulting and degrading him.  
He stopped once the tips of his leather shoes came close to touching Jack's. With raised eyebrows he observed him from up closer now, and his expression was near impossible to read - was he feeling happiness, sadness? Was he even capable of feeling anything other than disgust and some-asshole-I-didn't-like-just-got-fired euphoria?  
He grabbed the fabric of Jack's coat. Jack tried not to flinch as he did. 

"I see you haven't decided to change your wardrobe. That's.. Unfortunate." With both his hands Tassiter patted the jacket where it lay on Jack's chest. Jack looked down as he did so, just to have an excuse for not looking him in the eyes. 

"There.. wasn't enough time, Sir." he answered. "It's not like I can just finish the work I was doing, run into my apartment, spend time deciding what I'm going to wear and then get dressed in that, and then get to your office, all within ten minutes. I mean, do I look like, a, a- I don't know, a friggin’ hyper speed rocket?" 

"I wasn't accusing you of being slow, John, I'm criticizing your wardrobe. I'm aware these are all Hyperion brand, but they are kind of displeasing to look at, really." 

It was easy to not look offended at that, because he really wasn't. "Whatever you say, Sir", Jack said, eyes still fixated on the other's hands. He was glad they weren't touching his skin just yet, because he swore that without fail they'd be cold as a snowstorm again. The guy's body temperature really fit his personality.  
"Well, it matches the rest of your appearance at least. Except for that jacket, but I'm assuming that was a lucky strike in a pool of ugly blanks."  
Despite the unkind words coming from him, the CEO still seemed kind of pleased with what he had in front of him. Jack could only remember one other person who'd bothered to compliment on the jacket he was wearing, and that was the clerk who'd sold it to him.  
He tried not to fall as Tassiter suddenly grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket and he was pushed backwards, his lower back hitting the office desk roughly. He grabbed the edge of it with his hands reflexively. 

"Ouch", he couldn't help but say lowly once he felt the impact of the hard... whatever material that was. Metal something. Way too expensive for a simple programmer, fancy special issue desk, yadda yadda. "What was that for?"

“Do you really want to go through that list? We'd be here for days, months even, if I start off from the beginning.” Tassiter said. He was trying to push the other further up against the stupidly resistant table - was it seriously riveted to the ground? That'd be labelled as an unnecessary investment in any normal division - but he found no success, because even after a failed attempt of holding Jack up by the hips he wasn't quite certain what his boss was trying to accomplish. With one leg between Jack's and a very displeased facial expression he wasn't exactly sending clear signals, as per usual. Was Jack supposed to be a mind reader instead of a programmer now? That'd be news to him.  
After some more seconds of needlessly trying to get his employee to move the way he wanted, Tassiter let out a breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His glasses slipped down by a small amount as he did so.  
"Do I have to spell everything out to you?", he asked, pushing his leg up against Jack once again to get across whatever point he was trying to make. Admittedly, it was becoming kind of distracting. 

"Alright, well, I'm sorry I can't pick up your fancy brain waves when you keep looking at me with the same monotone expression, Mister No-Feelings-Involved", Jack retorted. Slightly quieter he added, "Not my fault that you can't just say what you want." 

Jack wished the other hadn't heard that comment, because it earned a laugh from him - not the pleasant kind of laugh, not the one you'd wish you could record to be able to listen to it over and over; not one that filled you with warmth, as it did quite the opposite. It was quick, just a 'Ha!', an exclamation. He wasn't sure whether it could even be considered a laugh; he'd have to look up the dictionary definition to be sure about that.  
It didn't make him feel in any way wanted, it made him feel ridiculed and uneasy. 

"Say what I want? Really, John?"  
Both of his hands were still on Jack's hips but only one stayed there, as the other wandered up towards his chest. It played with the jacket again, but it wouldn't be staying there. 

"What I want,"  
The worn out leather kept moving back into shape once it had been gripped and then let go, something that deep wounds could not do.  
"is very simple...“ Greedy fingers kept moving along his Hyperion yellow sweater. The collar. His throat. Obviously. 

The hand was closing, fitting unrighteously well around Jack’s throat as Tassiter tightened his grip, pleased at that gorgeous rising unease in the two mismatched eyes that stared back. He couldn't build up quite enough strength with only one hand to really do some damage, or to even fully cut off Jack's air supply, but he could inflict a nice intimidating deal of pain, and that sure was working.  
The poor programmer felt like he was being held underwater, contemplating that this was what it'd have to be like to wander the moon without an air supply. Here, he likely wouldn't end up suffocating to a slow and boring death in the middle of a crater filled lunar desert and have his ashes mixed with moon dust and then later sold on the Pandoran black market for more than they were worth, but at this point he had a hard time deciding whether that wasn't actually the more pleasant experience.  
His hands went up to claw at the hand, gripping and trying to find halt and tear it off, but the effort was to no avail.  
Tassiter's face was already mere inches from Jack's but he decreased the distance further to speak right next to his ear, making his breath touch Jack's skin where his hand wasn't busy bruising it.  
"What I want", he repeated again, putting emphasis on the last word by pushing Jack against the table even harder, and letting his bony fingers squeeze the young man's throat in a way that he wouldn't forget anytime soon, short time memory loss due to low oxygen or not.  
"Is for you to get your braincell-deficit arse up on that desk, and do as I say. Though that last part should be a given." 

With that, finally, all the air he'd lost returned to Jack's lungs with a deep gasp as he was finally released from the choke hold, and he coughed as he again held both of his hands up to where Tassiter's had been mere moments ago. The world around him was a dark blur, moving too fast as if he'd found himself on an alien planet with a terribly high rotation speed. 

"Could you--" Jack coughed again. His voice still sounded choked. "M-maybe not do that again. Like, ever. Please" 

"I'll consider it...“, the chairman said, with his usual calm now restored to his voice. "The fact that you used the word 'please' might potentially heighten your chances. I'd like to have that coming from you more often."  
His actions were just as calculated as his tone of voice was constantly, the hand that he had used to show Jack what it was like to be shot into airless space without having to spend any budget on an actual rocket was now nearing a second demonstration of that, but it promptly ignored his precious windpipe and brushed along the side of his face instead.  
"But I've got to admit, those lips would look so much better if they ran blue", he said, the low and threatening tone of his voice making clear that he wouldn't hesitate for even a second to do what he'd just proposed. "Don't you think so?"  
"Not really, no! No thank you! You're a little bit insane, just a tad bit, you know that, right?", Jack said, with his shaky voice a small octave higher, hoping that the accusation would distract from his very evident anxiety.  
Still, he did as his boss had ordered, simply because he had no other choice but to comply if he wanted to keep his life and his paycheck. And so he moved to lift his body up to sit down on the office desk behind him. Thankfully the desk was pretty low, so it didn't require much of the energy he was kind of starting to lose right now. The new height unfortunately didn't change the fact that Tassiter was still making a real show of getting in his face and didn't plan on putting a stop to that anytime soon.  
He jumped when he felt one of Tassiter's hands on his knee, beginning to creep up his left thigh. If his rhythm of breathing wasn't already fucked from being strangled into next week and the week after that, it sure was now. 

"Should I choke you a second time? It was so nice when you didn't talk."

Jack didn't reply, he could only take deep nervous breaths to try and restore all the ones he'd missed for however long that'd been. Too long. Was Tassiter planning on breaking his new 'toy' already? Was he aware that human beings had no warranty?  
He couldn't stop feeling lightheaded; his mind was swimming in a sea of disorienting bubbles and there was no sight of a surface, only darkness, going deeper and deeper, colder and colder.  
"Please", he started, but the hand squeezing his thigh cut off the thought he was trying to vocalize. Instead it made way for a small sigh, a breath that wasn't exactly a moan because God forbid, but something else he couldn't quite place. "Please don't", he finally said.  
The CEO grinned, a pleased tone in his voice. "Begging already, are we, John"  
"I'm just following orders"  
"Good.", Tassiter answered, as controlled and steady as was the receiving of his monthly paycheck. He continued playing with Jack's lips, running his thumb along their softness in a way that was uncharacteristically careful and thus almost didn't seem real. Hell, none of this seemed real at all - the sensations Jack had felt in his dream one after the other came crashing into existence with every touch that found its way onto his skin, the grip on his thigh through his jeans, the thumb caressing his bottom lip-- so needy, so very possessive. What made it worse - if this wasn’t already the single most horrific thing to happen to Jack in his entire career - was that though the only real contact he could feel was on merely those few parts of his body where Tassiter touched him, the man was so close, so in focus because there was nothing else to see and feel and be so very aware of and subconsciously drawn to, so that Jack felt like he was everywhere - he was animating Jack’s own body more than he himself did, making him long for- well, for what? For this to be over? That’d mean for him to give even more of himself away just to escape what he didn’t want to face: that he’d lost and that, with assuredly a lot of genuine second thought, he had accepted this contract’s Terms and Conditions without properly thinking about what the fine print had warned him of.  
As the touches along his inner leg kept drawing so dreadfully close, Jack wished he could just succumb to this feeling of defeat, to let whatever was bound to happen wash over him and to stop resisting and fighting back when the waves would come close to drowning him, simply because he imagined it to be so much easier than being trapped in this sorry state of awareness and own will. In a way he already was close to that; he wasn't running away again, had surrendered long ago.  
Still Tassiter was so close, too close - and reality was swimming, dissipating in Jack's head. The only connection to it that he still had was where that awfully persistent hand touched him- up, up, further up, slowly stroking and giving rough squeezes through the fabric of his jeans. It all felt like he was slowly falling back into his dream, - nightmare? Yeah, on second thought, definitely a nightmare - being pushed around and ordered by the command of mere touch alone.  
Jack didn't even need to look at the other to know he was thoroughly enjoying every millisecond of this, every quiet noise that he already managed to lure out of his inferior no matter how much Jack tried to hold back, every smallest reaction of his body from the way he jumped when Tassiter tightened the grip on his thigh to the shaky breaths that left the lips where his other hand still lay. It mirrored how his thumb had caressed Jack's lip before in his dream, and he felt almost intoxicated by the paradox of it, couldn't even accept it as factual now that it truly was. The action just felt so uncharacteristic, so wrong, and yet he was so unnaturally drawn to it- what had happened in his stupid angst ridden fantasy kept running through his mind, ripping apart all plans of defiance that still remained in the rubble.  
Fingers were digging into Jack's thigh again, so high up now, coming so near, so very near, just a little further—  
Knowing precisely what he was doing with every calculated step and every movement that could seem like an impulsive and natural decision to others around him that weren't spending their time psychoanalyzing his behavior, Tassiter drew back the hand on Jack's cheek, watching his eyes follow it as it moved out of reach. The void of cold that it left on Jack's lips painted yet another parallel to what he just couldn't forget and shake off, the memory too vivid still, too real now. He'd never think to admit it in a million years but he needed it back, he needed something-- and as his sweater was being tugged out and lifted up from where it was tucked in his jeans with a rough pull and not a moment after fingers as cold as the air the two of them were breathing made contact with his skin just above his hips, the breath he had taken stopped in its tracks for a second only to later shakily leave his lips again, and he moved closer to the touch without really meaning to. 

Jack for some reason struggled to keep his eyes opened fully now; maybe he wanted to be asleep again. Heavy eyelids kept falling back down, matching the half-lidded greedy gaze in the face so near to his. His attention then focused again a small way down, on lips that were slightly opened like his own, leaving behind a steady rhythmic hot breath that smelled very faintly of mint. The kiss in his dream had felt both shocking and somehow soft, ice cold in itself but filling him with a boiling contrasting heat as he had started to return the gesture in the haze of his subconscious loss of willpower. Would it feel the same if he dared it now? Unlikely. Highly unlikely, in fact. But was he curious nonetheless? He had nothing left to lose, but nothing of significance to gain either. It was right there in reach. He just had to act.  
The hand on his thigh reached further up once again, something it hadn't done in a small while. He had almost forgotten about it. 

A rough grip on his hips to pull him closer; uneven, short breaths; the choked sound of what wasn't allowed to be heard just yet.  
He met Tassiter's eyes. Somewhere on Promethia, a bullet hit its target. 

Jack didn't get any further than holding the back of Tassiter's neck to pull him in when he was suddenly grabbed and pushed down, slammed on the table so abruptly that it catapulted him back into the reality of the situation quicker than a surveyor drone could zap away a weak old shield. He found his arms above his head held down by the one hand that had been drawing teasing strokes up his torso just moments ago, and opened his reflexively closed eyes to an intimidatingly amused grimace that had spread across the CEO's lips. 

"My lord, how _cute_. How adorably naïve...", he was saying, slowly, dragging it out to make his words more mocking and humiliating than they already were. "Do you ever, _ever_, think about what you're going to do before you actually do it?" His nails dug into Jack's skin where he held down his wrists. It hurt.  
"I- um. Well. Rarely, actually"  
"Yes, evidently."  
"Sir-"  
"Don't even try to explain yourself, John. You should be reported dead because clearly your brain doesn't show any kind of function"  
To help support his insulting words with action, Tassiter removed his touch from Jack's thigh to brush up past his belt and continue what he'd done before, running his hand along Jack's sides in quick, rough and almost hungry motions now. It seemed like he both wanted to pull him closer but prevented himself from doing so by still holding the younger man pinned by his arms above his head.  
The inability to scratch the side of his face awkwardly was becoming quite annoying to Jack. He searched around the room, looking for things to stare at that weren't Tassiter's face.  
"I just felt like it was the natural way to go, you know", he started, making up the shittiest excuse as he went along. "Like when you're reading instructions and they say, uh, number one: insults! Number two: endless friggin teasing! Number three: more insults! And then you gotta get to four eventually, you get me?"

"Yes and step number four is you shutting your windpipe, empty-headed moron."  
He dragged his nails along the other's hips now, leaving behind red lines that burnt not quite as strong as the fire that had built up within Jack's chest.  
"You wouldn't dare to kiss your mother with that mouth, what in the world makes you think that I would?"  
"My mother's dead."  
"Same difference", Tassiter shrugged.  
"And besides, if you at any point thought that this whole... situation, would take into consideration what _you_ desire," He closed a bit of their distance to be able to drop his voice to what was near to a whisper, a very condescending one. "Then I am truly sorry to break it to you, John, but by walking through those doors-", he gave a subtle nod towards the door, as if there were any other doors in this room besides it, "you agreed solely to exist in order to abide by my needs, and mine only."  
Jack swallowed a breath he'd been holding as yet another streak of red lines irritated the skin on his chest.  
"That was very nicely said, you should think about becoming a poet or something", he then said.  
"And you should look into a side career as a damned clown- Christ, John, you're starting to make me lose the ability to think of sophisticated insults"  
Jack laughed lightly at having accomplished the goal of pissing his CEO off without being thrown out the airlock, - yet - but his small giggle turned into a moan against his will as Tassiter finally did pull him closer to the edge of the table by the hips, rolling his own against Jack's, once, twice, while still keeping his wrists pinned to not let him regain any form of control or illusion thereof.  
"Shit", Jack breathed in response, trying but failing to keep himself from thrusting up against the new pressure, much to Tassiter's satisfaction. Though he did notice Jack's frustrated expression in contrast.  
"What is it, hm? Unhappy with how your body's reacting?", he said, so undeniably pleased at his employee's discontent. He moved again, now dragging his nails up Jack's torso as well, but this time earned only the hint of a whimper through a strong exhaled breath in return.  
"Get used to it." 

Jack felt so weak, down at the lowest point of his power if he had ever had any to start out with; he was on his knees in every sense except physically. Physically, he was being held down, still in place, fastened like a screw that was never allowed to move freely or all else would fall apart around it. With his pride long crumbled and gone, one would think he wouldn't take any issue in letting away that he found even a small drop of pleasure in this, that he lifted his hips up to meet Tassiter's when he moved not because he assumed it was the right way to act in order to avoid getting fired, but rather in a true desire to get more friction, more of something, anything, just more--  
But he did have an issue with it, many in fact, too many to count. His body was lying to him, to his mind, to itself, because there was not the slightest possibility that anything in the way it behaved was truly genuine. 

"You need to get used to it, John. Accept that you, your body, wants this- craves this, even" He closed in again, which made Jack shift upon the desk. He let his hand brush downward now, leaving the sweater lying on Jack's chest where he had dragged it up along with the strokes along his skin that was now painted with markings which surely wouldn't stay too long, but were painful nonetheless. Especially now in the cold air Jack felt exposed, more so than he had already for acting like this and being in this position in the first place, but he was more aware of the places on his skin where Tassiter's fingers had left their stinging red mark to show that he was at his sadistic mercy.  
Jack tried to break free from the grip on his wrists, cursing himself for not thinking of doing so sooner. "You power hungry freak, I don't want that! I don't want any of this-", he said, almost shouting but not quite. He still held back, why was he still holding back?  
"You just keep telling yourself that until you start believing it", Tassiter replied, letting his hand dip even lower near Jack's hips. Jack held his breath.  
"I mean, it's so simple - just look at you", he said, gradually losing himself to his own monologue now as he went back to touching the other's thigh, digging his fingers into it, then moved up to his hips again, interchanging between gripping and pulling him close to create that tingling stupidly hot friction, and then just dragging his nails down again. By now Jack's skin there felt numb with the overlaying sting of countless small wounds that he hoped wouldn't be visible once he would take his next shower. 

The fact that he'd dragged Jack a good way closer to himself on the table allowed Tassiter to get even nearer, to his face, his neck. He moved so that his head rested to the right of Jack's, nearly touching the crook of his neck with his nose but not quite.  
"You can't even hold back how much you want this, how much you love this", he spoke lowly, and Jack could feel the breath on his skin again- that damned feeling it inflicted but really shouldn't have any business in doing so was tearing him up inside, filling him with a sensation of excited confusion and frustration.  
"No", he turned his head away as if it'd do anything to help. "I don't know what you mean, Sir", he tried, not very convincingly. His voice was shaking, God, why was it shaking?  
"Do you think I'm blind, It's clear how much you-"  
"Well, you are wearing glasses, so"  
"Oh, shut up", Tassiter spat, moving the hand near Jack's crotch even closer to it, slowly, agonizingly so.  
"You know, you might think you're so clever, but you're the one who let his guard down willingly. You're the one who is whimpering and begging just from a few touches, pathetic I say-"  
"Hey now, I wasn't begging! At what point was I ever begging? I demand an audio recording of the incident complete with a judiciary record."  
"Oh then what was that constant, please, please, please- I tell you say it more just once and you obey without second thought! You live to please me and you've already learnt to thrive on it"  
A metallic click sounded as he went to open the belt of Jack's jeans, but he dragged the action out, too preoccupied with letting the man beneath him know what he was thinking.  
"And how can you keep denying it, really", he started again, getting much closer to the side of Jack's neck.  
"One quick look at your face is all I need to tell. Look at how fast you're breathing, it almost seems like you're hyperventilating- and your cheeks, I couldn't tell them apart from a field of roses - actually, scratch that analogy, let's go with a blinking red error warning, or a mutating bug.  
Really, can't you see how you heat up like a flame whenever I touch you, seriously, anywhere - I suppose you can't, you cannot actually see yourself, but you can feel it, can't you, that rising hot shame and that,-- that feeling of embarrassment, isn't it just beautiful-"  
"Stop, just-", Jack whispered, and after a short pause added, "Please"  
"Good. Yes, very good" He lowered the grip he still had on Jack's wrists, but was far from letting go of them completely.  
"But are you still under the blissful illusion that this is all my doing? You're giving me too much credit here, John."  
He continued undoing Jack's belt, playing with it a bit, feeling over the neat metal with his thumb. At times he even stopped completely, letting it fall to the side as he dragged his hand down just to brush lightly against Jack through the thick blue fabric. Jack had never seen anyone try to take off somebody's pants this slowly, and frankly it was quite infuriating. He tried hard not to show any signs of desire for what Tassiter was planning to do, because in what reality would he ever strive for that? Not this one, for sure.  
"Don't get me wrong though, I don't mind that. But even if I were to stop- which I won’t, by the way, please shut up about it- Even if I were to stop, you'd still have to face that most of this is coming from you. It's all you, John. You could've just accepted your termination, you could've ignored my call, you could've deleted my message without listening to it first. But in the end, you didn't choose to do any of these things."  
Finally, the belt was opened completely, but Tassiter once more abandoned it immediately to move his hand upward this time and stroke along Jack's stomach and sides again. He continued talking, though it felt like he was mainly speaking to himself even though it was Jack who he was addressing.  
"And you're here." he said. "You're mine now. Though, frankly, you've been mine since the moment that you signed your shitty contract..."  
"It's not shitty." Jack said quietly. "And also none of that other junk is true as well", he added.  
"Speak for yourself, code monkey."  
"I am! And I'm telling you everything you think is true is just you being full of sh-" There was a rough pull. His head started hurting. "Aah, ah, fuck, ow-"  
"Tell me, John", Tassiter started, his voice dropping to a low intimidating whisper once again. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy doing so, making Jack feel like there was nothing between them, only silence when his voice did not echo off the cold office walls ever so slightly and quietly; like there was nothing left to separate them but a steadily narrowing veil of thin, hot air.  
Tassiter had let go of the other's wrists to grip a fistful of his hair and was tugging on it, forcing his head to bend lightly sideways so he could have even better access to his neck.  
"Do you have a good memory? Answer honestly." He took pauses to graze over the skin of Jack's neck with his teeth, leaving puffs of hot breath as he spoke.  
"It's fine I guess, why? ...Ouch, stop"  
"Shush"  
"But you just asked me a-", Jack started, but a tug at his locks managed to silence him again.  
Tassiter cleared his throat before speaking again. "Because it seems some things have slipped from your horrendously empty mind. Remember, who gave you this job, this life?" He left a small nip with his teeth at Jack's neck. It was very far from being painful, if anything it lightly tickled.  
"Who do you have to thank for your neat little apartment, your healthcare, your monthly paycheck that you throw out to buy framed pictures of cats-" He bit down harder now and Jack had never been more grateful to have his hands be free, because one of them immediately rushed up to cover his mouth and stop a moan. Something that felt like an attempt of a kiss was placed on his neck after the bite, but it felt like it was an accident rather than a genuine one.  
"Sir we don't have- ha, - a-any paid healthcare"  
The CEO just shushed and ignored him, pulling on the locks in his hand even rougher as he took deep breaths that fell hot onto Jack's skin.  
"Who pays for your dumb tech magazines nobody reads except for you, and the pens that you keep breaking because you fidget with them or play dart with your working equipment-"  
The hand still brushing along Jack's stomach finally, finally went lower, past the belt it had undone. Jack held the breath in his throat again, wondering if that'd count as doing Tassiter's work because he wouldn't have to be choking him to make him suffocate.  
One more light bite found its way onto Jack's neck.  
"And who pays for your tasteless morning coffee, or your hideous clothes that I just can't wait to rip off your body, God--"  
Moving away from Jack a little, he lightly cleared his throat. “Excuse that, it just slipped out, how embarrassingly unprofessional. My point is, you should be grateful."  
With his hands now free, Jack gripped the other man's suit, not quite thinking about why he felt the need to do so. He had moved so far away again, even though he was still much closer than what many would consider a reasonable distance of a healthy working relationship. 

Jack didn't know whether he should push him away or pull him closer. If a sane person with no sign of a hard-on had to make that same decision, they would undoubtedly choose to kick him right into the center of the sun.  
"Can we go somewhere else", he said once he couldn't stand the puzzled look on Tassiter's face anymore. 

"What"

"Like-, a bedroom or something, maybe, I don't know, I think now's the time. Actually it kinda has been the time this entire goddamn time but, you know, I thought I'd be patient, but now I'm not, not anymore, so, yeah. That's that on that." 

"You didn't walk into this thinking I'd be going to five star dinners with you and actually taking you to my bloody apartment, did you", Tassiter said, not letting Jack attempt an answer before he laughed, "Oh that is just- that is simply _delightful_. Wake up, John, this isn't whatever romantic dream you've managed to think up with your last two half-dead brain cells. I don't have a bedroom in my office, what did you think was going to happen, moron."  
Jack was still holding onto his suit jacket, and he swatted his hands away like they were aggressive bees threatening to bring back the wrinkles in the fabric he had so carefully ordered the secretary to iron. That is not my job, she'd said, as if she really had a choice. 

"So you actually wanna... Like- like, right on this desk? Here?" 

The CEO just stared ahead at Jack's face, letting the grip in his hair slowly loosen. "I could be done with so many assignments by now", he muttered after a long pause.


	4. Incalculable Desire (2)

"This isn't even comfortable. How would this be comfortable", Jack murmured, his eyebrows furrowed. He played the scene through in his head - definitely not very pleasant, especially for his back. 

"I think I've mentioned before how none of this is in any way dependent on your comfort level", Tassiter said, as if he was simply stating logical facts. In his defense, he was.  
"But since your brain cells seem to be committing suicide inside your head one by one, I shall make an effort to repeat it to you, so that there's a higher chance it'll stay in there for good." 

"Is that your best shot at dirty talk?" The programmer grinned. 

Tassiter only responded by putting the hand that still lay beneath Jack's waist to use, effectively preventing him from making any more noise that could be recognized as words and sentences.  
"Let me make this clear. Clear as day, just for an idiot like you, John."  
Jack tried to hold him at a distance as he went to lean back down, but his arms were immediately gripped, softer this time, and gently they were laid back down on the table above his head. And he kept them there, even once Tassiter lifted his hand again to run it through Jack's hair. 

"I do not possess any empathy for you in this situation - or, put simply, I don't care."

Now that he was closer again he returned to Jack's neck, not to cover it in more marks - he'd done his fair share at that - but simply to stay there, as a reminder that he always was near if only he wanted to, and that he would never leave. It made Jack feel so trapped, there beneath the other's body, as if he were in a cage with no lock to pry open and escape. His skin felt like it burnt up wherever the breath of spoken words touched down on it through a low whisper. 

"I don't care if you disapprove of your current position, because you have no right to like it or not; I don't care if you'll complain to me about back pain or something of the likes from what I'm planning to do to you because we both know you'll enjoy it to the fullest." 

A shaky breath akin to a sigh left Jack's lips at the words spoken so close to his ear, so heavy and yet tranquil as they were whispered so lowly - they were accompanied only by that hold the older man still had on him, the desire it invoked proving every single hypothesis Tassiter was putting up. 

"I don't care what happens to you in any given situation, I don't care if you hurt and break and get torn apart like, some-, like a piece of paper - it won't matter to me. In fact, I will just relish watching you fall apart like that, I'll love every second of it, John, every smallest second"

It had started at a slow pace at first but now the hand below Jack's belt began to pick up its rhythm, steadily growing with the metrum of his speech. The touch was merely through the fabric of his boxers which hadn't been ignored for whatever sadistic reason, just to tease him even more, to satisfy that joy of leaving Jack no other salvation than one of begging. Not with words, God forbid, - he'd said the word 'please' more than he had in the past two years - but with his body rather, his signs of desire, deliberate or not. As those rough touches gradually became more frantic and hungry, and the hand that was at this point in charge of Jack's entire repertoire of desperate body language finally, finally dipped below the waistband and managed to still the need for that skin on skin contact, while at the same time immediately worsening said desire by a tenfold, Tassiter finished his well-expressed thoughts, which albeit spoken through a building haze of eagerness still seemed so calculated and almost rehearsed to perfection. His rhetoric mirrored who he was as a person, in a way. 

"And when your throat is sore from screaming my name, just know that I do not care, and it is statistically very likely that I never will." 

"Alright, fuck", Jack only said, taking one very heavy breath as he felt the grip below tighten, as a warning, a reminder- well, whatever it was, it was damn distracting.  
"I'll take back what I said about the dirty talk or whatever, just don't try and go too far"

"You're not the one who gets to decide what is 'too far' and what is not" 

"Well I'm going to anyway, because for starters-" Jack was cut short by a moan that wanted to find its way out his throat as Tassiter directed his attention to both the hand below his belt and the pull he still had on his hair. Jack tried to hold back, he really did; he had been trying this entire time he'd been here, but similar to any experiment in science or programming and test-running a new code, things that you try are prone to failure by a nearly inevitable amount of probability. And so he picked up again what he was attempting to say, hoping that his voice wouldn't shake too audibly anytime he felt the other's grip on him shift in position to give off that short spark, just a small flame in an empty forest, never fulfilling, never enough.  
"For starters, you'll never get me to scream your name, no matter how much I'm sure you'd like to hear that" 

Jack would've loved to see at least some small trace of disappointment in the CEO's facial expression, something so little one wouldn't notice it from afar but Jack could, and he could've cherished it, could've been proud that he had at least some effect on the other rather than vice versa - but the face across from him remained just as stoic as ever, so cold and unmoved, and in response Tassiter only showed a small twitch of a grin.  
"We'll see about that.", he spoke, dragging his fingers along Jack in a slow, almost careful motion, thus only invoking even more of the young employee's impatience. Without thinking - he had stopped actually thinking about what he was doing here quite a while ago - Jack arched up into the movements of his hand, into that touch that was never satisfying enough, only teasing and teasing for what seemed like merciless eternity. 

The reason for his frustration sported an ever so very pleased smile, and Jack wanted to kick it until it would vanish. He bucked upwards again once he felt another spark begin to run through his body, and he would've been ashamed of his eagerness had his sense of shame not been replaced with one of greedy desire long ago. 

"Getting impatient, are we?", Tassiter asked, clearly showing pride in what he'd done. 

"Yeah, no shit", Jack breathed, though it felt like soon there wouldn't be much breath left to draw from. 

Tassiter paused, and for a moment it seemed like he was immersed deeply in some important string of thoughts. His eyes wandered along Jack's body that lay underneath him, spread out on the dim reflecting black surface of the desk, his to take - arms still above his head, though by now slightly lowered; he was obedient, yet impatient and still so very loudmouthed, but again, his to mess with - his lips rested lightly opened as if they'd lost their instructions on how to remain closed, and he kept drawing short, heavy breaths that reflected in the steady rising and falling of his chest. He was gorgeous, but somehow already a bit of a mess.  
Tassiter hummed lightly, seeming somewhat pleased. His gaze began to move further downward shortly, but he stopped himself to instead meet Jack's eyes. "I suppose it is a tad impolite to leave you waiting for so long", he said. 

Jack shrugged, which felt kind of weird to do when lying on a desk. "I'm used to you not being a fan of friendly social interaction." 

Quickly, Tassiter withdrew his hand, and Jack hated when he immediately found himself missing it, already longing again for that warmth and the pulsating familiar pressure it provoked, though it hadn't been gone for even five seconds. He needed more, and this wasn't about _who_ he needed it from, it was simply what he needed - satisfaction, touch, more, just _more_. 

Tassiter stepped back to slide open a drawer at the right side of his desk, leaving Jack still waiting and lying there on top of it, awfully aware of this whole mess of a situation he was in. When he had taken his reluctant steps through that heavy door that was now sealed shut - at least he assumed it was, if the sound of locks sliding into place once he had entered the room had been of any indication - he hadn't for the life of him expected to be occupied with satisfying the CEO's wishes for more than half an hour, one whole hour tops. And though he didn't have any way to guess exactly how much time had passed already it felt like an ever ongoing eternity, and thus much more than anything he'd anticipated. Tassiter really did seem like the type to wish to get business done quickly, no matter what the things were that he had to do - even if the 'thing' was a person, as in this case. He seemed like he wouldn't bother to abide to the needs of whoever he chose to mess with; he'd put the fulfillment of his own desires above everything else, high up on a pedestal even more extravagant than every smallest corner of this office.  
Concluding from these assumptions, naturally Jack had guessed this meeting would be over as quick as he'd like it to. But Tassiter only loved to drag it out further and further for his own selfish amusement at Jack's frustration, at seeing him struggle to keep the surfacing of his body's needs at a down low and yet ultimately still failing with every small breath that sounded so close to a moan or a pleading whimper. 

Jack watched with weary half-lidded eyes as the other found what he'd been rummaging through the small desk drawer for. After a while he found it hard to keep his head up in this position as the strain was causing small tingles of pain to run down his neck, so he sat up in one quick motion, supporting himself with his arms placed behind him on the desk on either side. His eyes didn't miss the small plastic packet Tassiter was clutching in his right hand once he had knocked the drawer shut again. 

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?", he said, stepping closer again to run his free hand along Jack's inner thigh. The gesture felt soft and just as gentle while it wandered upwards to his hips again, leaving light brushes of only his fingertips that had Jack holding his breath in anticipation. He was sure the pleasure of those small touches would soon be replaced by pain once more, but instead they left behind only a void of themselves as the hand was lifted again, retreating. It seemed like Tassiter had an unavoidable affinity for teasing Jack in a manner like this, so much so that he had to stop himself from doing it or he would never see any significant signs of progress. 

Jack swallowed the breath he'd been holding, his eyes following Tassiter's hands as they moved. 

"Lie back down on the desk", he ordered, his voice as unfailingly indifferent as if he'd just requested the latest armament shipment or ordered a hot cup of green tea in the cafeteria. "And take off that hideous jacket, will you"

"I thought you liked it", Jack said. Still, he did as he was told, sliding the jacket off his shoulders. He let it fall down onto the desk, then freed his hands from each of the sleeves. 

"I did say I like it, but I don't like it _on_ you." 

Tassiter leaned to the side to carefully place the plastic wrapping on the desk near to Jack's leg. Then, now that both his hands were free, he went to undo his belt with an external calmness that almost seemed forced, as if he was putting too much thought and focus into making the whole situation feel casual. He had convinced himself that the slight tremble in the gestures of his hands came merely from exhaustion, a long day that was threatening to drag out much longer; from the fact that the memory of whenever he had last pursued acts akin to this had already begun to slip from his mind, and thus a lack of practice led to insecure and imperfect movement - in conclusion, nothing to worry about. He had convinced himself that Jack was the more desperate of the two of them, clearly.  
And he was, in a way; at least right now. Right now as the young employee was bothered and longing for more of what he couldn't help but feel so anxious about at the same time, the same nervous quick heartbeat. Thinking about what was to come, Jack felt an unbearable heat rising in his chest, making his panic so horribly palpable in the way that it seemed like his lungs had been locked away into a tiny jar with close to no room to breathe. 

The dull metallic noise the belt gave out as it was slid open swiftly made Jack swallow dry nothingness in his throat. He had simply settled on staring at Tassiter's lips again, his chin and throat, sometimes looking down to where his suit began, the collar where a black tie still rested against the typical red of his shirt. Though Jack's eyes were heavy he wouldn't dare to let their gaze sink down much further than past the other man's chest.  
He drew a sharp breath. 

"Now, exactly what part of 'lie back down on the desk' did you fail to understand?", Tassiter asked after a short while, looking down at Jack who was still sitting up with his arms leaned back for support. Though with how he was feeling he swore they'd give out any minute now. 

"I- Sorry Sir, I just-" Despite asking, it appeared that Tassiter wasn't too keen on hearing whatever excuse Jack would manage to come up with, as his unimpressed expression gave away. 

"Of course, I am in no right to judge you here. With as giant of a lack of intellect as you possess it must be awfully hard to follow simple commands, especially while dealing with such... distractions."

He forced Jack closer on the desk by pulling him towards him with a rough grip on his hips, now again flush with his own. Jack only let out a shaky breath that turned into a low groan as he instantly gave a weak, frantic thrust up into the pressure, that falsely welcoming heat that threatened to burn through his defenses and eat him up from the inside. The unsettling eagerness of his own actions was alarmingly hard to hide now and it scared him, made him feel as though he'd lost control of his body while his soul remained inside, screaming at it to cut out whatever nonsense it was so desperately striving for. He still sought out that contact, horrible and unforgiving and stricken with a false sense of security and backstabbing love; sought out the touch for its warmth and its closeness, while at the same time he knew it was poison. It was the taste of bitter almonds that'd make his head swim, and float what would be left of him down an endless river of false hopes and desires, down, down, to a gloomy end.  
In a way, he wanted it. And he knew that he shouldn't, naturally, that he truly didn't; but there had to be some truthfulness in the way he arched up into the light movements of Tassiter's hips against his own, the resulting friction merely through clothing still making him long for more; how he was drawn to the stinging rough grip on his hips that promptly reignited with every smallest of those thrusts, like a moth to a flame in which he would burn up; how he leaned his head to the side as the other came closer again so that he wouldn't have to pull at his hair in order to expose his neck and place a small bite on his skin yet again. 

"Fuck", he uttered, simple and weak and utterly pathetic at this point - he blamed that neediness of his own body, trivial biology; he cursed Tassiter's endless need to lead on and let the taken path finish in a dead end, only to turn around and start anew; hell, he blamed the air in this office and the windows that held it inside, the crumpled up useless note still in the one of his jeans pockets, the once ice cold surface of the table where his hands had turned it a disgusting warmth on the pitch black surface - he blamed everything around him, everything but himself, his core, where the true desire had dug its own grave.  
In a way he wanted it, and that realization filled him with even more panic, more uncertainty, because he couldn't keep lying to himself. 

In his haze of desire and rising anxiety he hadn't noticed Tassiter pull a small distance away from him to focus his attention again on finishing what he'd started.  
Jack managed to halt a weak whimper in its tracks before it could escape his dry throat to give even the slightest indication that he was already missing what he swore he'd never think to crave in a million years. Yet, if his body couldn't keep quiet, then neither could he, and he couldn't bear the thought of genuinely going through with what the CEO seemed to have planned for him, and then finding himself enjoying it even in the slightest bit. He had to put a stop to it while he still could.

Tassiter was becoming impatient, more so than he already was, had he ever so desperately tried to hide it. Yet slowly but surely that facade of self-restraint was beginning to crumble under the weight of need, piling up to break down a part of that wall of calmness and bring forth even more of his greediness. 

Jack's head hit the hard surface of the desk once again as he was held by his shoulders and pushed down, though he deserved the resulting pain as he simply couldn't be bothered to follow most primitive commands such as this one. He wasn't given time to dedicate his groan to be one of pain as one of Tassiter's hand was on him again in an instant, making quick work of the small bronze metal buttons on his jeans which he hadn't bothered to open up previously. The other remained on Jack's chest for a brief moment, pushing him down with the force of Tassiter's own weight on top of him, thus making it much more difficult to breathe than it was already. Where the hand then headed wouldn't ease said issue, and Jack held his breath before it had even come close to wrapping fingers around him, surrounding him, trapping him. There was no escape, only stinging pain thrown into a horrible, disharmonious mixture together with rising, boiling pleasure; there was no escape, only drowned out sounds through a thick sea of undisclosed and unanswered desire. 

It was all gradually becoming too much - the hand on his throat, not daring to press down fully just yet, and the other still turning small sparks into a flame at his core; Tassiter's heavy breaths falling right next to his ear together with the cooling air of the office that never let him forget the sting of those marks he'd left on his neck; Jack's own quiet moans that distantly echoed off the dark walls and which he'd much rather forget before he'd even get to hear them.  
Overwhelmed with that multitude of sensations Jack wanted to keep the other at a distance, to push him away just to get some air and breathe. He grabbed a hold of Tassiter's suit and before he could revolt with some elaborate insult Jack managed to free himself of the man's presence, at least as far as being 'free' goes. He then promptly let go of him and sat up on the desk once again. 

"John, for God's-", the CEO started, but Jack cut him off. 

"You-, just-- Just shut up for a second." He was still breathing heavily, as Tassiter's advances on him had yet to retreat, and he tried to catch his breath as if it were a gust of wind in an airless lunar desert, escaping him again anytime he grasped it.  
"Hold on just a minute before you curse me to an eternal suffering in the afterlife with whatever you're about to say" 

Tassiter responded with a scowl, likely showing more emotion than he had during the past few months. "Dear, you'll meet that afterlife sooner than you'd like if you keep this up", he said, emphasizing that he clearly still was the one in power, no doubt about it, by closing the grip he still had on Jack. In reaction the younger man let out a sharp breath, but he would refuse to succumb to his body's illogical needs a second time.  
"You're three oceans deep into a sea of denial, John. You'll need to breathe sometime." 

"No, no, I don't, I really don't. Not this way. I'm sure we've proven enough how I don't need that much air? Yeah? No need to further demonstrate that, of course, - please don't ever do that again-", Jack paused shortly, involuntarily, to let out a shaky sigh at the continuous movements that still carried on below his belt, persistent and malevolent in nature. "What I'm saying is, ah- Fuck, stop", Jack bit his lip to stop a moan, something he really thought he'd only ever see in stupid cliché romance movies. Well, this was just about the opposite of that.  
"I just-, how do I put this", he continued. "I really, genuinely don't think I'm ready for... that. Whatever you've got planned, Sir, I don't like it. I don't like any of this, of course, but I especially don't like that.", he said, daring a look at Tassiter's face while he stuttered out his excuse to guess whether his death would be quick or rather the length of a five course meal of torture. It was looking to be the latter. 

Jack let out a small sigh of relief as Tassiter's hand finally decided to stop in its tracks and leave him alone. He wouldn't miss it.  
"If this is too much for you already, maybe you should've thought twice about coming back.", Tassiter said as he let his hand wander along Jack's thigh again now, leaving a burning touch though his voice was cold as he spoke. 

"You threatened to kill me! I feel like that's enough of a reason for me to be here." 

"That's beside the point." 

"It literally is the point, but sure, yeah, whatever floats your boat mister" 

The hand on Jack's thigh squeezed, so tight it was a beautiful amount of painful, and he let out a gasp, hating himself much more for every smallest of those sounds he let free without meaning to. Tassiter's expression was tough to read, a strange mixture of anger and the ever so eager determination that stemmed from his deeply rooted belief that he'd still get what he wanted no matter what. He moved closer. 

"Sir", Jack tried. He thought he'd been clear enough; apparently Tassiter either had not gotten the memo or was insistent on proving him wrong. 

Jack felt a small smile up against his skin where soon after a kiss found its way onto his neck. This would make for the second one today, of course deeply overshadowed by what was not a small amount of bruises. Did the CEO's lack of patience play any role in what was such an unfittingly soft gesture? 

"Don't you see the irony in this?", Tassiter said, his voice calm but still filled with some new found resentment. Placing his hands on his chest Jack hoped to keep the other man at a distance, though he didn't push him away again just yet.  
Tassiter continued, "You take a shot at lecturing me about not being sure of what I want, like a blindfolded ugly toddler with a broken Jakobs revolver, and then you turn around and beg me to stop it and to do the opposite of what we both know you want." 

A small nip on Jack's skin, then a bite. Jack took a sharp breath. 

"John. Listen to me"

"No"

"You need this. I know you do."

"No, I don't" Jack did try to push him away now and he succeeded, meeting a somewhat disappointed face staring back.

"Look I'll just, I don't know, do something else. Okay? Also, what does the toddler's physical appearance have to do with whether or not he can shoot a gun? I'm gonna be thinking about that one all day."  
Tassiter pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes shortly. "You know, actually listening to you while you talk is a conscious choice I have to make since my default is simply to ignore everything you say. It keeps me from going insane, but you are really trying my limits here", he said, and with an exasperated sigh he then adjusted his glasses and took a step back to think. 

"Well", he started, a finger occasionally brushing his goatee with the hand that he'd brought up to his chin. "You could finish the job in other ways, I suppose."  
Jack was glad to find he hadn't lost all sense of joy and humour yet because following a rather inappropriate train of thought he let out a snort at what the other had said, and he couldn't help but flash a small grin. "Speaking of job-"

"I won’t move you into a higher position already, just how greedy are you?" Tassiter snapped back almost immediately. "You’ll only receive a payment, maybe a small raise if I’m feeling very generous, and that is a word that I normally would never use to describe myself" 

"Sir, I meant blowjobs"

"Oh. Right." He cleared his throat and then, waving his hand in some unrecognizable hasty manner, added, "Well, fine then, get on with it" 

"Sure. Yeah", Jack said. God, what had he just agreed to? "Yeah, alright"

Tassiter went to sit down in his office chair that stood behind him, leaning back in it with an expectant look on his face. Was he being smug, did he show excitement? No, none of that, because naturally he had to be just as stoic as ever, as if this was simply another drop in the vast sea of those millions of business meetings it was his duty to attend. The way that he chose not to show his feelings made things both easier and harder for Jack - for one, it created a sort of distance between them that did actually make it feel like this was nothing more than any other bureaucratic process, and as hard as it was to believe, that thought did have rather calming properties. This was, after all, for his work; to be able to keep climbing the ladder and get rid of the threat of falling right back to where he'd started; to simply have more freedom in a much more luxurious position. But over the course of this he'd realized he had taken that freedom from himself and had it be turned into something grotesque by the same man who he had hoped to gain it from. 

He didn't know what he wanted, and neither did he know what Tassiter wanted from him. Sure, it was power; power over him in both a literal sense and figuratively, emotionally. He did already have him under his thumb but Jack prayed he wouldn't keep him there. He didn't know whether he wanted him to just ignore his own nature and be completely obedient, to listen to every single word that left his mouth and to follow his every command, be it absurd or near impossible. To simply listen without question. Jack felt this was likely the closest to figuring out the CEO's wishes he'd ever come. The man was a bit of an enigma after all, hard to read due to his own efforts to keep himself as closed off about his emotions as he possibly could. Some might even say he had no emotions at all, because really how could someone with a vivid heart beating with feeling keep things bottled up for so long without bursting at some point?  
The man was like a novel filled with empty pages. Only few people knew personal details, and even so they were mere unimportant things such as his favorite color or brand of tea.  
Red and chamomile. 

Jack didn't know what he wanted; still he knew exactly what he had to do. He took a breath, then swallowed the mass of uncertainty and shame inside his chest and dropped to his knees on the cold marble floor. His eyes cast downward were met with the reflection in the blackness underneath, painting a pathetic picture. How was he so worked up already from just a little touching and teasing? His hair was a mess from when Tassiter had pulled on it, and the right side of his neck was covered in a field of marks that spread across his skin like yet to be dismantled landmines. His chest rose in heavy, irregular breaths as he tried and failed to calm the rising anxiety that tingled through his fingertips and made his head feel numb with a tinge of shame. The floor did not reflect it well but Jack knew his face was just dripping with the blush he could feel as a persistent heat upon his skin, searing hot in nuances of red against his cheeks. One might describe the view as gorgeous, but with that sentiment Jack could not agree any less. 

Finally daring to look up he saw a rather pleased and satisfied look paint the CEO's lips as he met Jack's eyes, thriving off that beautiful bitterness they were filled with. 

"Well?", he asked, and Jack despised that tone of his voice, the self-satisfaction he basked in and made every effort to show. It was a small question, one word that carried such a clear meaning, but Jack hated every letter. 

"What", he spat, but his hands already twitched in the direction in which they knew they had to go. He kept himself from moving closer just yet. 

"You're not getting paid by the hour, John. Get a move on" 

Jack took a breath, then promptly shuffled on the cold floor, closing the small bit of distance that was left until he was close enough to be laying his hands on the other. Having broken eye contact he simply kept looking down, even once he reached out his hands to hesitantly place them near each of the CEO's knees he avoided the other's gaze in any way he could. He couldn't stand to see those dark eyes staring back with such a maliciously pleased resonance at just how low Jack had sunk, literally, down to his knees with a dirty biting shame running through his veins.  
He quickly discarded the belt that had already been halfway opened, figuring that if he wasn't getting paid for making it last he might as well get it over with shortly. He'd better get a good payment for this, otherwise he'd gladly choose the free ride out the office air lock once the next 'meeting' would come around.

This position Jack had let himself fall to was so utterly vulnerable, even worse so than being pinned to the hard surface of the desk and falling victim to the way his very own body would react and betray him. It was so much worse because now it was him who had to act, who had to reach out his hands and do what Tassiter had done to him while it was still him who remained the one in charge, because who else would it be. He was so utterly content and pleased with every nervous movement of Jack's hands that felt like they shouldn't be allowed to touch him, like they shouldn't have the authority to be the ones opening buttons that made Jack's fingertips smell like old metal; to be going this far with only his own decisions to guide him, even if they were hesitant and in every smallest sense so very unsure; it felt wrong and out of place.  
Jack's motivation, his incentive, was akin to weak leaves in a storm only waiting for the next gust of wind to shake them off. Orders and commands were their wind, and without them they hung motionless, their freedom invisible to them, a mere unattainable concept. 

Despite seeing him struggle with that room of possibilities and the task ahead, Tassiter had yet to comment on Jack's inefficiency. He was simply watching the younger man, observing and taking in just how delightfully pitiable he was at this very moment. 

Sure, Jack knew the drill, it wasn't about that. It wasn't that he was anxious he would do a bad job, but rather his panic came with having to do it at all. It all felt so terribly unfamiliar - so very alien was the gesture of finally sliding that last metallic button out of its hold and grasping the used fabric of a suit that used to be a favorite, letting the pants fall near to the floor that was competing against them in terms of deepness of their black shade. So very odd was the small act of then simply placing his hands back to where they had rested before, only now without the layer of clothing to separate them from bare skin, and feeling the heat of it be shared with the palm of his hand. Body heat was likely the only instance of Tassiter ever sharing something of his possession with another human being, and it wasn't even done willingly.  
Jack tried to swallow but there was only a vast drought left in his throat, itching and stinging like the small needles of desert cacti. He wished he could just choose to not acknowledge it but it was quite obvious that he was not the only one the previous escapades had taken a bit of a toll on. Thus the other was seemingly getting quite impatient again, and though he still kept up his collected facade one exasperated breath he gave was enough to indicate that he very desperately did need Jack to - as he had so gently put it - 'get a move on'. 

The programmer did as he was told without use of words and let his hands wander upward to remove the boxers as well. They were Hyperion issued, of course, and the 'H' of their logo sprung up everywhere across the dark red background. Jack had always thought that a sunflower's bright yellow shade would paint the company in a much more cheerful and better fitting way than this gloomy mixture of wine red and dark grey which looked like you had just murdered a colorblind painter in his apartment, but who was he to get any say in primitive things such as this one?  
He then merely stared ahead, not daring to move, not daring to touch. Jack was likely inflicting even more of that greedy impatience in the man above him by stalling and moving forward at such a slow pace, but he did not want to risk going further than he was meant to without clear orders. 

"John", he heard him call, and he wished he could kick himself for looking up at where the voice had originated from like some naïve stray dog begging for a treat which in the end he would never receive. "How come you're so hesitant when this was your own suggestion?" 

"I.. I don't know, Sir", Jack spoke, his voice low. A rough tug on his locks pulled him closer by force, making it clear that being slow and hesitant was not the way to go. 

"You're about as useful as a chocolate teapot", Tassiter said, yanking the other's hair once more just for emphasis, just because it was fun. 

"Well, have you maybe, possibly, considered that this is not what I thought I'd spend my Friday afternoon doing?!" Jack's offended and frustrated expression reminded distantly of a skag puppy attempting to imitate the furious actions of the adults in its pack and failing terribly at it. It would be too weak to even come close, and so was Jack at this moment, weak and so very drained and yet still longing for something which he'd never get, or at least would not get today.  
The grip in his hair tightened again rather strongly and suddenly, and the pain it sparked felt so refreshing, so ravishing as it ran along Jack's neck down his spine and to his chest, spreading out that wonderful stinging sensation. He gave a low groan at the hotness that began flowing through his body once more, pooling down to where his legs were spread just a little too eagerly for the fact that they weren't even being paid a great deal of attention to. 

"God," Tassiter started, letting his grip in Jack's hair falter just a bit, "It’s astonishing just how much you love this. And yet you keep denying it. You're pathetic." 

Jack ignored his words, or tried to, as he finally took him in his hand to give a few small, halfhearted strokes. Thankfully it did shut Tassiter up for a short while as he drew in a sharp breath at the light movements, and Jack looked up briefly to see that an almost indiscernible faint smile had crept into the man's face. It felt uncharacteristic to see him with anything but a maliciously intended grin that would make it clear it was his intention to ruin your day, but it clearly still wasn't one of kindness but rather of simple satisfaction, of finally, finally getting what he wanted.

The chairman was so used to having each and every wish he could possibly think up be fulfilled at the shake of a hand, at the flicker of a wrist and the press of his fingertip against a button; to have each and every worker under him abide by his rules, follow his and his lead only, to deliver everything he wanted. And Jack would follow suit - he had no other choice. But he'd make him regret asking for it as much as he could whenever he got the chance. He would let him get the satisfaction in the end, but not the one of completely controlling him, never the one of giving himself up and handing over his will. Because as long as he was still breathing, - even if he shortly had to stop at times due to choking - as long as his heart had not given up on him, he would become this man's most beloved nuisance.  
Jack moved closer, and the hand still digging into his hair went along, though it wasn't clear whether he or Tassiter was leading it, and he stopped in his strokes briefly to place one quick kiss, then two, and then another. Dragging his tongue up along the side he carried a very faint salty taste with it that would stick to him until he'd make the choice to forget about it. 

He had closed his eyes and was now simply trusting his other senses for an indication on whether what he was doing was of any effective outcome. And if the rhythm of Tassiter's breathing steadily becoming much heavier and the grip in his hair that tried so desperately to pull him closer and edge him on to go further getting just a little more frantic and needy couldn't be interpreted as signs that he was well on track, then he didn't know what else to rely on than his own knowledge that told him, even though he was not in charge, he had the power now to make it feel like he was. 

After a few more strokes accompanied by one or two smaller kisses Jack let his lips cover just a short way, resisting the force with which the other attempted to hold him down and get him even closer more quickly. It was quite interesting to observe; still Jack was at the end of that blame about desperation and needing this so badly, and yet here he was, the very man who expressed his joy at his suffering showing exactly the kind of behavior which he had deemed so utterly pathetic and at the best very entertaining to watch. And entertaining it was, to witness the irony that was in the small thrust of his hips up into Jack's mouth just as the young man dared to give in even the slightest bit, to toss him that little sense of satisfaction. And he simply wanted it all, without fail, to take every single smallest bit for his own and still demand more, so much more. 

It was an unusual feeling still, as it had been a while for Jack to be the one at the giving end of this, yet he was quick to find himself falling into a pleasant rhythm - likely much more pleasant for the other than it was for him, but still - and he let his hand move along for that small bit of additional pressure that he knew did count a great deal.  
He was aware Tassiter was keeping himself from letting much noise escape him just as Jack had done earlier, but their parallel in that aspect did become distinctive with the realization of the precise reason for it; while Jack had simply acted out of shame and embarrassment of his own reaction, Tassiter's motive was rather one of holding up his own wall of cold emotional nothingness, his facade that was void of showing any feelings that could even vaguely be interpreted as a want for intimacy. He'd much rather fire his best men before even thinking to admit that Jack did actually manage to have an effect on him that went beyond simply satisfying his need like the good little worker he was, beyond stubbornly executing the task he was given. 

The small mixtures between sighs and very quiet moans that did slip through the cracks every once in a long while gave Jack that approval he so desperately needed, that little bit of silent encouragement that told him what he was doing wasn't just for nothing. He was good, better than he was being told he was, and so, so much better than pathetic. Though he didn't forget what he'd sworn himself, and despite his craving for approval, be it verbal or through acts such as the rough tugging of his hair, he could not help but give in to the side of himself that wanted to watch the chairman before him struggle and beg. He'd never actually get him to beg, of course - the mere imagination of that was such a highly contrasting oxymoron that it would likely tear apart the confines of time and space if it were to pop into reality. But he could get close to it, really ruffle the feathers of his pride by dipping them deep into that need and craving for release.  
And so he dragged it out; every movement, every smallest stroke of his hand that accompanied him became sluggish and almost careful, as if what he held in his hands were highly sensitive and threatening to break into a million pieces at any given second. Tassiter let out a short breath, running his hand through Jack's hair and pulling once again. It hurt, and the pain felt so, so _good_ but Jack wouldn't let that stop him, wouldn't let it distract him. Instead he gave a small moan at every tug of his locks and every grip with which his boss uselessly tried to get him to pick up the pace again. It made him fall right into a cycle that only let it get worse with every noise he himself let free, as it sparked the other's desire time and time again, in the process making him unwillingly show just how much he wouldn't admit to wanting. 

Still moving at a frustratingly slow speed Jack then dared to let his eyes wander upward to see just how proud of himself he could really be for paying back just a bit of that tortuous teasing he'd had to endure. And the sight above him truly was something - Tassiter had lightly loosened his tie at some point and through some odd happenstance it made him seem so much more relaxed and less stuck up. It felt so very casual and normal, and... attractive? No, never. Ew. Christ, why did he just think that?  
Though Jack had to admit that light red shade along his sharp cheeks did give him some nice color which he rather desperately needed; he seemed a lot livelier this way, more vivid and natural when he was lost to this desire, with his eyes shut and lips never closing to keep giving those short but heavy breaths. Though he did still have that bit of stoic composure left, it was reduced to a near microscopic bit by now. It was clear in the way that he stubbornly continued to hold back, drew his lips closed to a thin line at times to keep inside what so desperately bubbled beneath the surface like the boiling magma of Elpis. He was hell-bent on not giving Jack that satisfaction - oh, but Jack would vow to take it, no matter whether it was given to him willingly or not.  
He tightened his grip to give a rather hard squeeze that made the other hold his breath and then release it again shakily as Jack continued in his steady teasing movements. He even dared to let his other hand gain some say in it, dragging it along his inner thigh and at times even letting nails graze lightly, very lightly.  
There was something so very uniquely satisfying about watching a man this selfish and hungry for control almost unravel and fall apart - at least internally, he bet - at the thumb of who he thought to be nothing more than a hard working obedient mono-braincell coder. Tassiter was still so lost to this fantasy of living on some high up untouchable level of existence, when reality looked to be quite the opposite. 

Jack's head by now felt as if it was burning up like a feeble plant in the middle of a wildfire at the sting of the never faltering grip of his hair that only became much stronger with every drag up and down, forcing him in his movement and even making him use his other hand to push against it as to stop the burning feeling in his throat from worsening much more. He had a hard time placing whether the sensation felt good or bad, satisfying or simply painful, as it somehow seemed to be both at once - he couldn't help but groan deeply at those occasional particularly hard pulls on his locks through the shaky hand that wouldn't let him go, never let him go; and he felt that vivid pulsating hotness down at his core grow much higher at every smallest low moan he got in return. 

Yet it all began to feel quite overwhelming, more so than the simple teasing he'd received earlier. He was swimming in the feeling of that burning at the back of his throat, the tickling pain that he would come to both love and loathe. Even the stars outside that he couldn't see anymore from down on the floor shone dim against Jack's flame of desire now, and he let his hand leave the other's thigh to drop down to his own in the hopes to ease just a bit of that burning need, that hammering of his blood in his ears that kept racing and racing, making his head feel like drowning in a spinning ocean of dizzy heat. 

Right as he attempted to dip his hand past the waistband of his jeans he was pulled in by his hair again, feeling that ravishing sting run down his neck once more. That didn't stop him in his tracks though, as he only longed for more; quick and trembling Jack's hand finally wrapped around himself in the hopes to get rid of that horribly beautiful pressure that threatened to bury him underneath his own restless need. In a way it was pathetic, again, utterly miserable to be touching himself, to even feel the need to do so, but there was no other way - he longed for release just as much as the man he was meant to please, just as much as any other person might yearn for it in this position. Still it was pathetic, and he was ashamed. He couldn't hide that he was, but neither could he hide just how desperate he really was for it. It was clear in the weak trembling of his hands and his moans that had become much louder, and so it was only a matter of time before Tassiter would put a stop to it. Because how dare, really, how _dare_ Jack for taking initiative that hadn't been an order and subsequently not letting his superior be the only person to be enjoying themselves here. 

One moment, there was the pulsing heat of his heartbeat everywhere, in his ears and his hands, shaky strokes that delivered just the tiniest bit of what he wanted; then a low frustrated grumble when at last it was noticed what he was doing, that spark which came with needing something so bad but knowing you cannot have it; and then, pain. It was a pain that stung with pressure and force as his hand felt like it had been stepped on, likely because it pretty much had. 

"Just what do you think you're doing", Tassiter spoke, the tone of his voice dripping with superiority and self obsessed power with each word as he let the heel of his leather shoe press harder down on where Jack's hand still lay. The sensation made Jack retreat it almost immediately and he sat back a small way as well to let go of the other for a moment. He gasped lightly when he felt the pressure build further at the lack of an answer, an explanation which he did not have. 

"Nothing of importance, Sir--" He drew another sharp breath at the ache that danced around inside his chest, his head. "Ow, cut it out, that shit hurts" 

"That's because it is supposed to hurt." 

There came a sudden kick and Jack let out a small cry, almost shocked and very justifiably offended at the action. 

He looked up to see what had to be the most self-satisfied, smug expression settling in the face that stared back at him. Holding his cheek with the one hand, propped up on the armrest of his way-too-expensive seat, Tassiter stared back down at him with a trace of what seemed like delightful pity lingering in his half lidded dark eyes. How could one so immensely enjoy watching the pain of others, and thrive off of it as if it were a necessity to create suffering? His lips curled up at any slightest sign of pain that Jack would show, in a way that made the young employee want to just get up and wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. He'd deserve that, and so much more. 

"Shit", Jack breathed lowly as the other shifted the weight of his boot to create a friction that was still painful but somehow at the same time immensely provoking as well, sparking just a bit of that heat again. 

"You'll have to understand that, for as long as you are with me, under me, you have no will, John. No freedom. Well, not that you normally would have those things, but still, my point stands...“ 

"You think your point stands but it's short to collapsing and it's sporting a broken ankle, asshole", Jack couldn't help but spit back, knowing it'd earn him at least some punishment. He didn't care; to some degree, he even caught himself thinking, it almost felt good to have that bit of degrading pressure on him, to be spreading his legs under it instinctively just by a small almost unnoticeable amount as his face filled with a mixture of aching and shame. 

Tassiter spoke again, stating simply as if it were a line on a tax paper, "Do not touch yourself again without my explicit permission. Is that understood or will I need to repeat myself using fewer syllables in order to spare your poor rotten brain?"

"I think I'm good", Jack said, waiting for the heel still dug in his crotch to finally lift and let him examine just how clean the floors of this office really were. He bet they'd left not a trace on his jeans, which in fact would be quite favorable. He quickly picked up that his boss was still asking for something, because when was he not, as he did not falter and he still did not retreat. Jack swallowed the comment he wanted to make on how stupid this was; the whole situation was frankly ridiculous. He locked eyes with the other and, without much emotion, - though what did it matter, really - said, "It's understood, Sir" 

"Good.", finally came his sign of approval. Only driven by selfishness rather than mercy Tassiter set his leg back to how it was, then added, "Now, keep going. I know you hate to leave work unfinished."

That work, actual work which paid out his salary, was much more enjoyable somehow, even though it involved hours on end of shuffling around on back-breaking cheap office chairs while staring at computer screens that seemed to shine in the night like they had just opened a gate to heaven. A simple screen dimmer had apparently been too expensive to implement in Hyperion equipment, and so Jack feared he might run the risk of becoming blind by the end of age 30. Thankfully he still had a ways to go.  
This was, by a long stretch, less enjoyable than watching the hours tick by with a mile long code sitting in front of him, but as with any work, he had to get through it.

Now allowed to move in his position again he crawled forward a slight way on his knees. This must've looked somewhat humiliating, he thought, with his eyes cast down and hands already reaching out again to find what he needed. Slick with his own cool saliva it was rather repelling to touch now, but he quickly forgot about it as he felt Tassiter grip him by his ruffled hair again. He couldn't let Jack go for even one small minute, always had to restrain him somehow, to have at least that small bit of control. Perhaps it calmed him to know he had such an ambitious soul under his thumb, when truthfully it was merely temporary authority that he had over him. 

Jack felt the pull, that exciting sting, but he refused to let it guide him. He held against it while the flame of pain burned up further, until finally he did give in a by only a small amount to ease just a little of that burn.  
"So childish, so very childish..." Tassiter shook his head as if he was about to give some thoughtful Shakespearean speech concerning the dangers of being too gullible in a world filled with people that would kill for even the most worthless possessions, because they themselves had even less.  
"You've got to quit acting like you're the one in charge", he said, leading Jack closer now. He obliged, seeing no other choice; his small feeling of revolt had vanished just as quickly as it had come. Like small rubble he was being kicked around under Tassiter's shoes, the real imprint of which was still very much present in his thoughts, the pulsing in his veins and the uneven pattern of his breath. 

"Any illusion of power you think you have over me is just that, an illusion." 

The CEO left Jack little choice of how and where to place his touches on him, but to get what he wanted he didn't need that freedom. As Jack did to his best abilities what he was told, the other's mouth just kept running and running; Tassiter seemed to be very talkative in general, even though at least three fourths of his sentences usually consisted of some form of insult, whether it be subtle or I-will-not-hesitate-to-throw-you-out-the-airlock sorts of direct. His words rang in Jack's ears along with their faint echo off the high metallic office walls, so calculated and carefully hand-picked out of a vast berry field of disrespect that it would almost make him feel valued, were it not for their content. 

"Pathetic, you are truly pathetic, so very mindless-- you just do as you're told without thought and I love that, I love how I can just make you crawl on the floor like some underpaid cleaning staff; I bet if I were to give you more you would even lick the whole thing clean, ha!" 

Jack wished he had the chance to counter his insulting words somehow but there was no way he would get to do so anytime soon. Instead he just concentrated on breathing, as that was becoming quite hard to do, and dragging his tongue along in ways which he deemed to be the most pleasant or at least hoped they would be.  
Tassiter continued, reveling in every beautiful moan Jack let free that sent pleasant shivers which ever so slightly threatened to make his voice waver just a small bit.

"And I bet you like it, hm?", he started, seeking out Jack's eyes and growing slightly disappointed when he saw they were shut. Nonetheless he kept going, "You enjoy this, don't you? You enjoy being pushed around and used because you're good for little else. Don't think I cannot see your eagerness. You miss my touch when it hasn't even left you yet"

A rather rough tug pulled Jack in further to the point where he almost gagged, and he held himself back with all he could as tears gradually began to well up in his eyes. He still kept up the rhythm he'd built, digging his nails into the other to ease a little of his own struggle. It promptly evoked a small and lightly surprised groan.

"You are simply, just, so- mh, so incredibly naive and easy to control. You belong under my authority and nobody else's, you're mine-- Gods, yes--"  
Tassiter closed his eyes, trying his damned hardest to hold himself back from thrusting up into Jack as he'd mistakenly done before; it had given his employee this false sense of confidence, as if he held any power over him, any at all. He wouldn't grant him even the smallest ounce of control for now, until he was certain Jack had truly earned it. 

Tassiter pulled at his hair again. Jack groaned in response, shifting a little closer.

"See, that's all it takes! I don't even need to use words anymore, you're just that eager. So needy and hot and desperate, isn't that right, John, yes-" He let his head fall back, felt that beautiful bliss slowly taking over as the grip in Jack's hair tightened but didn't strengthen the pull itself. He let out a low hum, his voice slightly out of breath as he spoke, "Keep going like that, this is very efficient" 

Jack would've laughed at the pure utter bureaucracy in that sentence, the ridiculousness that was its contrast to just about everything that was currently going on. Of course his actions could be described as 'efficient', and if Tassiter's growing surfacing of desire was any indication then that statement would very much be true. Still, even though he'd let Jack into such a private part of his life which not many got to see, or would ever want to see, Tassiter had yet to stop being so terribly closed off. He held his emotions at a distance even though he was much more pleasant when he did let some traces slip through. It was rare but thoroughly enjoyable to watch how his eyes remained closed shut with his eyebrows drawn up to show just how lost he already was in that sea of pleasure, drifting closer to relief; or when he failed at holding back one very eager moan, which now had begun occurring much more frequently. He took no notice that by now a few tears had fallen from Jack's eyes, and frankly Jack did not care either.  
Tassiter kept holding onto his hair as if it were the last solid thing in this storm of desire that came much closer every second, every time he couldn't help but buck his hips up into Jack; once, twice, first slightly as he had yet to stop holding back but still Jack closed his eyes as to not let them be filled with any more tears. Jack let the sound of those occasional low moans guide him as he picked up his pace a little to meet the other's greedy demand. But he wasn't granted that small bit of control much longer, as soon it wasn't him who got to decide his movement when the force that drove his head up and down like some broken elevator was due to Tassiter having taken matters into his own hand yet again.  
Jack didn't mind. The burning at the back of his throat had by now become almost irrelevant when compared to the satisfaction that was being so close to finally fulfilling the CEO's wishes and to getting what he himself wanted. At last he was getting so very close to this being over, and to the huge paycheck that would hopefully await him. Those were the only things Jack was looking forward to; for no other reason than those did he feel a trace of excitement for what was to follow. He didn't think or care about anything else; not about the quick breaths and deep groans that continued to slip through the other's lips, the shaky grip of his hand as he kept letting free more fragments of that side of him which Jack had never seen before - whether he let go like that willingly or simply driven by desire neither had a way to know, but it was likely to be the latter. Jack was perfectly indifferent to this entire list of things that could go on and on, just like his steady movements guided by the voice coming from above that was somehow both praising and degrading him in the very same whispered breath, and the hammering of a beat behind his chest, drumming and drumming away and picking up its pace in some form of anticipation he couldn't quite place.  
That thick fog of anticipation which had begun building up so long ago was washed away mere seconds later by a surprisingly neutral taste hitting the back of Jack's tongue, and a deep satisfied groan indicating that finally, finally this would be over.  
Immediately Jack pulled away, gasping for that bit of air he'd lost due to the difficulty that breathing like this posed. He reached up with his hand to wipe at his mouth; it hurt with a weird sting of being used in such a way and for so very long no less. That unfamiliar trace of a taste was still dancing on his tongue, his throat; he didn't really have much of a choice if he wished to prevent a tantrum about how the office floors were the cleanest thing on this entire station and it should always be kept that way. 

Jack sat back on the cold floor to stare at the dark tiles in front of him reflecting what little light shone in through the large windows as the other let out a very, _very_ pleased hum. The man made more than Jack's monthly salary in the small moment that it took him to blink just once and still this seemed to give him an even greater amount of satisfaction. They say money does not equal happiness, but money was the reason he could afford to do something as grotesque as this in the first place and manage to get away with it.  
He watched as a freight ship flew by in the distance, its metal surface glowing warmly in the sunlight it was exposed to. Or rather, he watched the dim reflection of it on the floor, as he still did not dare to let his eyes wander anywhere else. He swallowed again, then let out a small, shaky breath. 

God, why did he agree to this again? The question still wasn't clear; it swam around in his mind like a drowning fish in the wrong type of water. He did not agree to anything at all. He had been given no choice, since death was not an option.  
He sure felt like death now, as an undeniable shame was creeping up on him, waiting and preying and just aching to eat him alive. He knew that he had hated every second of this and yet he was still thrown around in a conflict of his emotions and the way that his body behaved even though it should know better. He deeply dreaded the taste that burnt up his throat but still his excitement hadn't died down, and the pulsating heat at his deepest had only taken those groans and used them as a catalyst to fuel his own desire, and it had done the same to what were now only tingles of a warm memory on his tongue and the back of his throat. 

The sound of a metallic belt sliding closed again made Jack finally look up, and he knew the shame that had risen in his face was plain to see because the eyes that stared so longingly back at him had never looked more malicious, and that was really saying something. 

"Get up", came a command - simple and short, so very quick it was back to that coldness and the emotionless orders he was already so used to. He obeyed, because what else was he to do?  
He was genuinely taken aback a little when his legs felt like they were near to giving out as he stood and attempted to regain his posture. There was an annoying ache in his knees and his back from remaining in that unusual position for such a long time but he refrained from stretching out as if he'd just gotten out of bed or stood up for the first time again after one long movie marathon. 

Tassiter then gestured with his finger for him to lean in closer, and Jack tried not to throw back a look of confusion as he did so. There was no reason to be close if the purpose of this was to tell him something, since they were, and had throughout the course of this always been, the only two people in a large room filled mostly with air that Tassiter would probably charge him per hour for breathing in, and thus whispering was quite a redundant thing. Still, Jack followed his orders and did not protest, at least not physically, as the other grabbed him by his sweater to pull him further down. Jack had to place his hands on the armrests on either side of the chair as to not fall over like some sort of idiot without balance.  
They were now much closer than they'd been before and Jack was so very, very, utterly confused. He clearly recalled the CEO saying something akin to the lines of never wishing to kiss him in the history of ever. Well, paraphrasing, but still. 

"Uh, Sir?", Jack simply asked, trying to sound as calm as he could when he had to fuel all his strength into remaining upright and at a distance from the other that wasn't exactly comfortable but much better than literally mashing faces with him. He cautiously placed one leg on the end of the armchair to take some weight off what his arms were forced to carry.  
Tassiter pulled on his sweater with more force now and his facial expression was one that said he was clearly the only one who knew what he was doing. Jack met his eyes once again, but his own still shifted and wandered around with uncertainty. They changed between the other's eyes, his lips and, well, there really wasn't much else interesting to see. Focusing his vision when he was up so close was slowly but surely starting to hurt. 

In between small breaths Jack swallowed, seeing that there was clearly a decision to be made which his boss was expectantly waiting for. Was he to go for what he thought the other wanted but what would realistically, rationally and emotionally likely turn out to be very wrong?  
After a few moments he decided to speak up since he passionately dreaded those seconds that were only ticking and ticking away in silence. "So, you know that thing I mentioned earlier about you not saying what you want? Yeah."  
Jack attempted to move away just a little but the unfaltering grip on his sweater prevented him from doing so. "I think it's safe to say that I was right, as per usual" 

"I'm giving you a choice, John. You should be thankful for this autonomy."

"Well, I'm not, as you can see. I'll be thankful if you let me go and then show some of that sweet cash money you promised me for this" Jack raised his eyebrows, accompanied by a small grin. "You know, uh, maybe a small loan of a million dollars?" 

"All you still wish for is money, is it?", Tassiter said, one of his hands sliding down to hold Jack by the hip. "I can give you more than just that, you know"

"I'll only take the cash, thank you very much"

Jack was admittedly getting a little frustrated now as he tried to grip the other's hand that was feeling around his hip and pull it away, but it simply wouldn't budge; in response Tassiter only dug his nails into Jack's skin below the sweater. Considering Jack felt rather weak in this position and the events that had led up to this didn't make just his knees feel like giving in, he blamed the small gasp that escaped him on those factors instead of a lack of his own willpower. 

"Oh, you'll see those zeros on your account, don't preoccupy your pretty little empty mind with that"  
Tassiter pulled him even closer, now using the hold he had on Jack's side as well. They breathed almost in sync and every smallest huff of used up air was suffocating.  
"But I want something in return."

"I already gave you what you want", Jack said, then with a slight trace of panic added, "Wait, don't tell me you can go for another round, right now, immediately. Even I take longer breaks than that and you're, what, like forty? Thirty? Sorry, I'm bad at guessing ages-" 

"Thirty-eight and _please_ for the love of all that is holy will you shut up" 

"Make me, asshole" 

"I will refrain from doing so just yet" 

Jack let out a frustrated breath when he still couldn't seem to free himself from the other's persistent hold.  
Even after having to stare into them for so long the feeling that reflected in Tassiter's eyes was near impossible to read. Jack felt like a useless city detective running through an unknown town in the dark, his only clue being the general narcissistic and greedy personality of the man across from him. Still the other was reading him with every glance directed at him, but the only thing Jack saw in return was a blank sheet with nothing more but the word 'asshole' scribbled on top for personal reference, just in case he should ever forget. 

"If you are so certain in your claim, why don't you try to guess...“

"Guess what?" 

"What I want."

"Oh, that's easy; money"

Jack had to bite his tongue as he felt a burning sensation of scratches run down on his side. "Ow, what was that for?!" 

"Wrong answer, dear. Keep going"

"Don't call me dear", Jack said, holding his next breath without really noticing as the hand on his hip moved in small strokes up and down along the marks its nails had left.  
"This is really stupid" 

"That's quite ironic coming from an individual with the lowest brain functions I've ever seen"

"Man, next time we do this I'm really hoping you'll be better at dirty talk, mister" 

Jack shifted his position to the side a little, hoping it'd ride up the sweater to let some cooling air touch his aching skin where Tassiter's hand still rested. It didn't, but at least now he was leaning six centimeters to the left. What a win. 

"John, the point of a guessing game is that you keep trying until eventually you'll find the right answer. Even a toddler can get these rules right"

"Well, what if I don't want to play your stupid game", Jack said, trying to push himself away from the chair with little success. "What if I can't find the right answer because you just want _everything_?"

"That is incorrect as well, I'm afraid"

"That wasn't even- ahh, ow," Jack shut his eyes as he felt the fingernails graze on his sides, up his back, leaving more of that burning tickle in their wake. "Fuck, God this is-- this is ridiculous, can't you just let me go like any normal person would" 

"While in theory I certainly could, it is tremendously more entertaining to watch you struggle. Keep guessing"

"This'll just go on forever"

"Well, then you've got one hell of an interesting story to tell your dermatologist"

Jack took a breath. "Okay, no money, but surely success of some kind, right? Though I guess you've sort of had that already"  
He tried to ignore the sting that travelled along his back to the best of his abilities, but he still had to pause for a short gasp whenever the other left a scratch that ran particularly deep.  
"Uh, hot women?", he tried, "Or men? Ow, okay not that, uh- True love! Ouch, alright, that's sad"

"John, it is with one hundred percent certainty that I can say: you are an idiot" 

"That's nothing new, I just wanna-, mh-" Jack bit his lip for a short moment when that horrible stinging heat was fueled once again, before realizing just how vulnerable that action made him look.  
"This is _so_ stupid", he repeated. "What do you want if it isn't money, even though you are just the greediest most money-grubbing person I know... And no, that is not a compliment" 

Tassiter let out a small sigh. "Now, I know how, evidently, that brain of yours is usually set to standby, but maybe try and use it just for once. You'll see it's actually quite helpful"  
As he talked he let the tips of his fingers run along Jack's side again slowly, now without any trace of pain, only an unusual softness to their touch. 

"Stop insulting me" Jack would make an effort to sound truthfully hurt, but even if he tried his hardest it wouldn't end up sounding even the slightest bit authentic. He was merely annoyed; annoyed at these idiotic games he had to play like a pet on a leash that was made up of entangled and glued together dollar bills; he was fed up with every touch that made him feel even the slightest bit of pleasure, because he was already so wound up and still so very needy with that remaining desire which now sparked even higher flames with every rough grip and with every small new mark on his skin.  
Jack then felt the touch of the other's hand on his cheek, and though he, as a result, noticed that it had moved there from where it had been holding onto his sweater, he did not move away, as he already knew the attempt would be futile. 

"Don't kid yourself.", came a simple, final reply as Tassiter still focused on caressing Jack's cheek and letting the thumb wander towards his lips ever so slowly.  
"Now tell me, or I'll fire you." 

The thumb dipped behind Jack's bottom lip and, while 'invading' was a strong word, it still did something which was rather close to just that, only slower and less violent externally. In almost careful motions the rough touch of his thumb danced around Jack's mouth which could in turn only hang open compliantly, waiting, anticipating- and yet the gesture was anything but caring in nature, possessive and clear it left its slightly salty trace, digging a nail and dragging it along to evoke a quickness of breath or even a small gasp. Tassiter flashed a smile as he guided his hand closer and Jack followed suit without order, feeling strangely bound to it as if breaking out of this hold would go against some unspoken set of rules or fine print company guidelines. He then drew back to run his thumb against Jack's lip once more. Jack at this point didn't register the touch anymore, didn't feel it as something strange and unusual on his skin, his body that was being used and toyed with for entertainment and pure malicious entertainment only; but rather it had already become somewhat of a background noise, one that he'd just have to accept in case he ever wished to advance. Still what lay behind it didn't let him go, wouldn't ever let him go until he got to solve the meaning he was so sure it had. Because there had to be much more in hiding than a simple monotonous need for demonstration of power and exploitation, and beyond that sly grin of the man still attentively watching him with a studied gaze he was certain lay a wall that was not as unbreakable has he made it out to be. But what was it that he wanted out of this? Jack knew clearly now they did not share their goals in this as he had previously thought, unless the guy was bluffing this late into the game which did of course seem very much plausible for him. Still, Jack had a feeling that what he had said was genuine, and exactly that fact threw him for even more of a loop than the rather nauseating one he was already in.  
The fingers holding his chin and still playing with his lips didn't dare let him forget their presence; ever so steadily did they draw small circles to tease, and when they did not, they simply stayed, resting in place with the memory of what was and the anticipation of what could come. 

Jack leaned closer, just a small way, again whether by an actual pull or one that stemmed merely from his clouded imagination he did not know and he could only care little less as he met Tassiter's eyes once more- so very dark, much more so in this dim and dreary light, they remained as pitch black against white marble that was so unhealthily close to matching the color - or lack thereof - of his skin.  
With his eyes narrowed Jack observed him, taking in the untelling look in his face, the constant evenness of his breath. What was it that he wanted? It must be obvious, in plain sight but still hidden to him and him only as he was still missing some important variable he didn't pick up on. Jack's gaze was cast downward yet it felt like instead Tassiter was the one looking down on him, judging him for every smallest second he dared to breathe the cold air between them and exist in the same space as he did. And yet somehow he seemed to be so very content with it, pleased almost if there weren't the constant insults not so carefully weaved into nearly every sentence that he spoke. What he had called Jack for was, presumably, done, and Jack would've been more than fine with simply being shooed away once it was because frankly he had expected little more. He would've grabbed his jacket and went the way he came with just as much shame warming his cheeks as it had before but then at least with a hopefully luxurious sum waiting for him on his bank account. 

And yet he was here, still, _still_ he was here, allowing the other's icy touch on his cheek and his gaze to pierce through his thoughts, calculated and emotionless - what was it? What was it that he could possibly desire if the answer wasn't rooted in pure selfish greed; what did he need to finally have the mercy of letting Jack go and rest from this, all of this, horrific yet invigorating- what was it, _what was it_ \-- the hand, that touch, that deeply dreaded cold of a loveless winter storm setting in early; that grin that was aroused purely from other's suffering and nothing but; never did he smile unless it was at the expense of somebody else-- what was it that he longed for? What did he _want_ , truly? 

Jack let out one of many heavy breaths, and it was clear just how close he was to the other man when its warmth wouldn't quite leave the space between them even once it should've long dissipated. The small distance reflected it, threw it back only to then trap it in a cage of unwanted closeness which Jack's mind had even slimmer chances of escaping.  
Then for just a moment, a long one at that, the steady movement of the thumb near Jack's lips stopped in its tracks for reasons unbeknownst to him. Jack shifted on the office chair. He still had his one knee up on the edge of it for the purpose of balance and of being able to close further distance without falling over, but admittedly it was becoming quite uncomfortable to remain like this. 

He let one of his hands rest on Tassiter's chest, while the other remained where it was on the armrest, simply because he thought it might be a fitting gesture. With tired eyes following his hand he brushed out small folds in the otherwise perfect suit beneath just so he wouldn't have to direct his puzzled facial expression actively at the person who evoked that same confusion. Jack at this point was like a little child, a young student not willing to admit the apparent dead end he had met in the fact that he couldn't see what should be plain to see.  
Jack felt the other’s voice resonate with the touch of his hands on Tassiter's chest as he spoke, "Your stupidity is beginning to annoy me to a great extent. It really isn't difficult, it's obvious enough I would trust a brain dead monkey to be able to guess it, and, oh what strange coincidence, you are one." 

Jack grabbed the smooth fabric under his fingers to create more ripples now rather than to continue fixing them. Tassiter didn't show that it annoyed him, but Jack knew it did. 

"Are you perhaps scared of being wrong again?", he then asked, resuming what Jack had hoped would not return, which was that grip on his hip with just a small malicious hint of a sting already present even though he hadn't lost a single word just yet. Jack let out a small irritated grunt as he felt it; he wanted to move away from it but found nowhere to resort to. 

"If you think I'm scared of anything that's got to do with you, old man, then you gotta think again real hard", he said. It didn't have quite the effect he wanted it to have, as soon after he let slip a small moan drowned out through closed lips that only recolored the picture of his vivid desire he'd managed with so much effort to lock away and bury. 

Jack reminded himself to take a breath. 

"Alright, fine, I'll play your stupid game."  
Jack used the hold he still had on him to push the other hard against the back of the office chair as he shifted his position on it to lean in very, _very_ close. The hand on Jack's hip still did not leave but in this moment he didn't care much, the only things registering in his senses, ringing in his ears, was his quick, frantic pulse, their rhythm or breathing that was now long out of sync and his own voice that now spoke, trying his damned hardest to sound out a calmness which he did not hold, 

"So, let me recap: You don't want money, or I guess even more money than you already have. You don't want fame, or success, you don't want love..." Tassiter watched him with a look that seemed as unfazed as ever by any word that left his lips, any assumption about his person the young employee had accepted as a fact.  
Jack was so close now, on his own, a contrast to that emotional distance, the assertion and abuse of power and difference; his words were quiet but perfectly palpable. 

"You want...", he started, looking at the man beneath. 

Nails were dragged hard against skin that had turned cold from the touch of emotionless office air. Another breath ran shorter than it wanted to be, than it should be. Jack stared on through a hazy fog of his mind down at the other's lips, while his own still hung open lazily - a natural response, in itself, an empty promise.  
Tassiter didn't dare let him leave. He wanted him here, for just a moment longer; many moments, since he could afford it. He wanted him here. He loved something to tease and ridicule. He wanted—  
Jack couldn't help but let a small grin take over as he finally let out a low satisfied hum, turning and twisting into the barest hint of a laugh before it then quickly faded again. Of course! What else would it be, what else could it possibly ever be and have been? He had been blind and, while frankly he still sort of felt the same way due to that unfortunate _distraction_ still teasing away at his hips and with those cold eyes still staring half lidded and expectantly he still felt lost by a small way, yet he now knew what they were so very expectant of, knew of the eagerness that lay behind that glassy front of acted passivity. 

"I know", he said; as a warning, a stab at a chance he wouldn't actually have to say what he thought to be the truth and what he knew for a fact would be right, as a way to give himself more time. 

"Well?", came the quick reply, condescending somehow despite only holding the power of one single word. 

"What you want.." Jack dragged his fingers along his chest, careful and slow, rising and falling with it. "You...want.." He leaned in closer, smelling traces of expensive perfume he would take two month's salary to afford. 

"Get to the point, John", came the annoyed threat of a man whose words meant everything and nothing to Jack in this moment. They held meaning in the sense that their impact was felt on his skin, and on that only; they surpassed everything else that his mind could simply not be bothered to register. 

Jack's eyes locked onto the other's lips once again as if he were a robot with a broken sensor for his field of vision. He felt the grip on his hip grow slightly rougher with almost childish impatience, pulling him closer, closer. 

Closing his eyes slowly, Jack leaned in. 

“…Me”, he said, whispered-- not believing the words he spoke himself. 

The air of Jack's breath was cold, and so was the hard surface of the desk that met his lower back only a short moment after, making him let out a small agitated cry. Tassiter had pushed him away - the man had a strength in his arms that, even though it was mostly fueled by an element of surprise rather than raw actual strength, was much more than Jack had anticipated. 

"Ow", he muttered defeatedly under a strained breath, picking himself up again to push away from the desk that had left an unpleasant pain running down his back.

Tassiter spoke, something that frankly Jack did not exactly need right now.  
"Really, I thought I had been clear enough about my stance on you putting your dirty profanity spewing mouth on mine. But, as always, your grand stupidity continues to exceed my expectations."

Jack didn't exactly bother hiding his confused expression, seeing as he had been decidedly certain in his analysis of the situation at hand. Yet once again it proved that he was left wandering aimlessly in a field of low hanging fog that he hoped would somehow eventually clear up and give way to comprehensible answers, when truly every word that left the other's mouth only made his vision grow dim and his orientation and patience run much thinner. 

Jack tucked his sweater back into place, then started, "Oh come on, I really thought-- actually, you know what, forget it"  
He let his irritated tone drift off into indifference, slumping the hand he'd been gesturing with against his leg as well to accentuate just how fed up he was with this entire situation. He settled he would no longer deal with the pure ridiculousness of it; it was time to execute plan fucking-book-it-and-don’t-let-the-secretary-see-those-stupid-bite-marks-on-the-way-out. 

Of course putting that very well thought out and appropriately named plan into action wouldn't just require him to simple get up and go, seeing as if that were a possibility available to him he would have most certainly done it long ago. It would require patience, an unnecessarily high usage of the word 'Sir', and, most important of all, it would require the CEO to let go of Jack's arm.  
Naturally, _logically_ , - really, he should've seen it coming - Tassiter had grabbed him, trapping him in place once again, because he was always at least one step ahead. On particularly busy days it usually had to be even two. He prided himself with that fact and Jack hated to admit that sometimes he really did deserve praise for it - his sharp and quick-witted nature hadn't exactly robbed Hyperion of riches and success - but he enjoyed it only in the few moments it did not affect and thus annoy him personally.  
His grip on Jack’s arm was like that of a stern parent attempting to hold their child back from apparent danger, only the danger was a perfectly harmless slide at the local space McDonalds and the entry fee for said slide most definitely vastly exceeded whatever sum the parent was willing to pay for their tiny slide-loving troublemaker. Which, in the case of Tassiter, would call for the invention of a new currency with a worth of less than one cent. 

Jack once more attempted to yank his arm away from him, pulling an annoyed frown when the man only stubbornly gripped him again once he'd managed to make him let go of it. 

"Patience, dear", came a warning, Tassiter's tone one of concentrated and determined, albeit a little annoyed, willpower. He let go of Jack now, and he stayed, admittedly having become intrigued to get to know the reason behind this childishness.  
"I know you simply cannot wait to leave and go back to pretending none of this ever happened and then failing horribly at said task like you always do, but stay still for just one moment. Quit acting like an agitated brain-dead rabbit, it can't be that hard."

"What's the point of this, just let me go", Jack said.  
His tired eyes followed the other for lack of something better to do in the moment as Tassiter moved from where he was sat on the office chair to walk over and open up a different small drawer than the one he had opened previously to the right-hand side of the desk. The fact that the drawer was rather close to where Jack was currently standing, watching the other intently, not quite knowing what to do, and the closeness of Tassiter as a result at first made him think that through some cruelty of the universe, some malevolent force watching him and kicking him around with such glee as a small kindergartner would a broken plastic toy, this still wouldn't be over.

Which was why, when his boss simply leaned down a way to fetch what looked to be a small electronic device, and with the other hand brought up Jack's and then placed it there carefully, Jack was met with an emotion that could really only be described as a mixture of confusion and curiosity in a healthy ratio of 1:10. 

He stared at the device in his hands. It had seemed like a regular external hard drive at first glance, but up close that thought was quickly disrupted by the modifications that had been made to it. Jack examined it, holding it up to his face with his lips pursed and eyes squinted close to make clear that he was very wary of what he had just been handed. Unlike the usual Hyperion tech he had worked with before the rectangular shape wore no signs that could indicate it was even fabricated in one of Hyperion’s many off-planet factories, still nothing on its flat, shining surface gave information on where the device had ever come from. It was high quality certainly, Jack knew quality when he saw it - the small LEDs to the side of it blinked happily in colors of red and blue, indicating, well, something for sure, and the thin surface of it looked to be made out of carefully polished high-grade steel, shining in the dim light when Jack moved it around in his fingers. A serial number was engraved on the back of it in a font size that was much too small for human eyes, reflecting and showing its presence only in the right angle against the dim moonlight. The drive was a good six centimeters in length yet still it felt so very fragile, a labor of love judging by the careful manufacturing. He was certain Tassiter had contributed nothing to its making but the information compiled on it. 

“Alright, now what the hell do you want me to do with this?”, Jack asked, very politely, tearing his curious eyes away from the drive for a moment to meet Tassiter’s across from him. Thankfully he had let go of his arm, which had admittedly become rather uncomfortable.

“If you’d listen to what I have to say without letting a curse word leave your mouth for just a second, I will tell you”, Tassiter offered. 

“Man, you’re asking a lot from me here, I really don’t know if I can do that, jeez—You know, it’s just hard for me ‘cuz you had so much asshole energy inside of you and I just-, I sucked it all up and, uh, I- I’ve internalized it now, you get me—“ Jack’s grin was met with the exact opposite expression glaring back at him and he quickly stopped again, although rest assured he most definitely kept on laughing internally. “Alright, sorry. Shoot”

Tassiter cleared his throat before starting his explanation, clearly attempting to refrain from going through with his murder plans in a moment in which Jack was being somewhat compliant at least. But if he could just make him shut up again for a small minute, maybe two, that’d be wonderful.  
“Very simply put, this hard drive contains an encryption code for your ECHOnet communication software that’ll let us converse safely”, he explained, then, pointing at the device in question, added, “We cannot run the risk of letting anyone know of the contents of our conversations. I feel like I need not elaborate on that part. Simply plug both your ECHO Recorder and this drive into your computer and then let it run the execution file on it. It really is easy enough even you will be able to follow through with it.”

“So, basically… you just wanna make sure you can send me some juicy dirty talk without it ending up on the net, gotcha”

Tassiter’s held his hand up to his face, deciding for a moment whether he should attempt a punch that’d be hard enough to knock the light of life out of himself, or to simply rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. He ended up settling on the latter, and with an exasperated sigh said, “Close the door on your way out.”

“..It’s automatic”, Jack answered.


	5. Classified Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot? In my porn? It's more likely than you think

Jack’s fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard of his small laptop that he was all too used to, the familiar tapping sound of each digit against the small keys ringing out through his empty room as he pressed them down in the order that was his password. The screen greeted him with his background image - a motivational cat, of course - and the brightness of it felt blinding in the dim light of his apartment. The old lamp on his bedside table provided the only other source of light and beside his laptop now it seemed like a star that was nearing the end of its lifetime.

Jack was sat on his bed, his legs crossed with the small computer on his lap, since it had to live up to its name sometimes, being a _lap_ top and all. The young programmer’s hair was still slightly damp from the shower he had taken earlier, and every now and then a tiny drop of water found the courage to dare and drop down from a string of his locks, only for the rest of it to then be slicked back by his hand. Thankfully so far no drop had fallen onto his laptop just yet.  
He eyed the hard drive Tassiter had given him. It still seemed suspicious, and it wouldn’t ever stop being suspicious because Jack knew he’d have to be careful when tapping into any of Tassiter’s proposals and ideas. He was wary of the man, justifiably so, and the small voice in the back of his head telling him to just go through with what he wanted because how bad could it really turn out to be only made him that much more hesitant. He wondered if his computer would even accept the drive and be able to access it - it wasn’t Hyperion tech, he knew that much now since he had looked up the serial number on the backside of the small device after reading it through a magnifying glass and it seemed to stem from some distant private company he had never heard of before in his life - so he had his doubts whether the drive would even end up being readable once he’d decide to fuck it and just plug it in. The connector at the end of the thin cable he was handed as well seemed to be the one fitting a simple USB port but he had yet to test out whether it would actually be compatible or just go straight to deep frying his entire computer. And like hell he’d be paying for that; Tassiter was a billionaire for a reason, and at the same time he was the reason Jack hadn’t become one yet. 

Jack reached for the small device, taking it into his hand and running his thumb along the reflecting metal parts of it. If it had only a little more gold inside of its design rather than silver he would’ve almost set his bet on Jakobs as a manufacturer, though he wasn’t sure whether that company had actually ever done anything other than guns. Very pretty guns, of course, but he had yet to see them dive into the huge pool of a market that was information technology. The polished steel was cold under his fingers as he had let the small disk rest in his apartment untouched during all the time he had to decide what he would end up doing with it - burn it, shoot it, throw it into a shredder and sprinkle the parts onto a dreaded coworker’s meal of mashed potatoes- the possibilities were endless and still he had yet to decide on what would be the most beneficial. He certainly knew which would be the most entertaining.  
The LEDs which had blinked so vividly when he was handed the drive in the CEO’s office had stopped doing so when Jack had stolen a look at the drive again once he stepped out of the bathroom, and he briefly wondered if the device had simply run out of power. If his theory would turn out to be true he’d really need to have a word with whoever was in charge of developing that, as he had never seen a more useless and unintelligent feature. And he was working at Hyperion, for God’s sake - the department coffee machines had passwords; each time a worker logged in that way, the amount of payment for the coffee they’d choose to drink would immediately be lifted from their account. Jack never was a big fan of coffee.

Jack leaned his head on one of his hands, his reading glasses slipping down a small way as he did. What would be the point of all this if he didn’t even have the courage to try? He certainly had the curiosity. His ECHO Recorder was already plugged in and the screen currently showed its files with no regards to personal boundaries. If there was a security camera in his room, whoever was watching could really have a field day with this – hey, Jeff, did you know that that Jack guy from Robotics has called the Mad Moxxi show fifteen times? – No way, really? That’s a lot of times, Bob! I didn’t take the guy for that much of a gambler! – Fifteen times _this week_ , Jeff! Oh, and it looks like he’s also got a subscription of-- Well, yes, needless to say you get the point.  
The programmer took a brief look through the log files of his latest conversations, all sorted neatly and perfectly so that whoever was constantly spying on all workers to assure they weren’t secretly putting together deviant plans, such as trying to paint swirly moustaches over all pictures of the CEO around the station, wouldn’t have such a hard time organizing and checking just how many times Jack had ordered pizza this past month. 

He took the connector into his hand, furrowing his brow as he examined it for the millionth time today. In all honesty, he just wanted to see those pretty LEDs again.

The drive whirred to life as it was plugged in, and his computer promptly came up with the usual “would you like to view the files on Drive:\R\ ?”  
R – He’d never seen that letter used before. It was pretty low, considering the only things he had were labelled C and D. How very creative.  
He pressed Ok, because this far in what else was he to do. He was already surprised his computer was still intact, though admittedly he didn’t exactly think very far with the breaking-his-computer theory he had worked out, since he now noticed its flaw that was the lack of a benefit from that for the man who had handed him the drive. Security software to encrypt their ECHO conversations? He would see about that.

There really was little else but an .exe file on the drive and some folders accompanying it. They had boring names made up of a random string of numbers which upon closer inspection turned out to be representing the classic month/day/year format, the oldest dating back to as much as two and a half years ago. Jack had a feeling this drive itself hadn’t been around that long, unless somebody was very dedicated to carefully rubbing over stainless steel and noble metal with microfiber to make it look this new. He attempted to open one of those said files but it wouldn’t budge that easily as he was immediately faced with a password prompt. “Huh”, he murmured and clicked away the small window. He guessed the other data on it would do the same and so he decided he wouldn’t even bother with the other files on it, still he wasn’t quite sure whether doing what Tassiter had ordered him was the cleverest path to go down next. His virus software so far hadn’t given any cries of danger yet, though the reason for that might’ve as well just lied in the fact that it was foreign tech.

Jack moved his finger on the touchpad, letting the mouse hover hesitantly over the .exe file.  
He then retreated his finger, reached over to unplug his ECHO Recorder and pushed the laptop off of him. If there were some special passwords involved in this, he had a right to be suspicious.  
He robbed over on all fours to get to the other side of his bed and pull open a drawer on his other bedside table. Rummaging through it he found all sorts of things among ones he wished he had forgotten, but his hand couldn’t for the life of him grab what he was looking for. Moving on to the drawer right underneath he was met with the same fate - frustrated, he muttered, “Damn, where did I put--“ 

Placing both hands on the edge of his bed, Jack then leaned over the side, glancing into the deep, chaotic darkness that was the pile of indecipherable mess under his bedframe. Thanks to whatever benevolent God that was left watching him stretch his hands as far as he could though, what little light managed to reach all that rubble generously revealed what he needed. Full of dust, spider webs and- was that an old sticker from a My Little Claptrap magazine? He didn’t want to know- an old rusty ECHO Recorder greeted him, although if it were to really greet him it wouldn’t be able to do so since its humanized equivalent would be a dead man in a very shallow and uncomfortable grave. Jack wasn’t too confident he’d get the thing working again, but it was worth a shot in the dark.

He pulled himself up to sit back on his bed, examining the small worn out buttons on the old device. It had really seen better days; remembering that he even still had it in his possession had required him to tap into some long forgotten memories of childhood days he’d much rather lock away forever, and he was sure the ECHO would feel the same way about him if it could. Still, it would be a helpful tool in his mission of determining whether Tassiter was just a complete ass or whether he had kept to his condescending word.  
Jack got ready to perform what could best be described as electronic CPR when his current, functioning and not spider web covered ECHO Recorder suddenly expressed its dismay at being ignored and exchanged for that ugly silver fox. Of course the true reason for its alerting blinking was clear to Jack and he quickly dropped the old device in his hands on his bed, something that in hindsight he really shouldn’t have done since now he would never be able to roll over and sleep on that side of the bed again without the unnerving anxiety of tiny old spiders crawling up his legs. 

Once the screen was turned on he was met with notifications of one missed call and two new messages in his chats. He hadn’t even noticed the call; he must’ve been in the shower. 

**[07:35pm] HW_Tassiter:** John, how is the encryption software coming along? Have you installed it yet?  
**[07:48pm] HW_Tassiter:** Did you slip on your stupidity? Answer immediately.

God, the man was more impatient than a clingy girlfriend. And Jack had had his fair share of that. He didn’t feel like answering him just yet, amused at the potential of him becoming even more enraged simply because his employee wasn’t returning his texts. Clingy girlfriend.

Jack turned back to the old ECHO, looking its sorry shape over before getting up to fetch a screwdriver from his toolbox in the corner of his apartment. He hadn’t used the contents of that small metallic box in a time that was longer than the morning queues at the station’s cafeteria, and it was starting to sport a rather proud layer of dust which still couldn’t quite compete with the one on the rusty Communicator. He picked up the one he saw most suitable and slammed the lid shut again, wincing at the resulting loud metal noise.  
The screws loosened easily, in fact, he didn’t even have to screw one because it had already been removed, and the way the device’s tiny lid slipped open vaguely reminded Jack of the stony entrance to an ancient cursed tomb being cracked open with no knowledge of the dangers that lie beneath. The only real danger he had to face was one of being electrocuted by the pure nothingness left inside this dead shell of what used to be a birthday present from his grandmother. 

“Ew”, Jack couldn’t help but comment on what was left of the wiring and dead battery, their living days long, long behind them. He removed the old lithium battery with a careful touch of only his thumb and middle finger, dumping it right into the trash once he got the poor thing out of there.  
He then set to work, hoping he wasn’t inhaling any poisonous residue of old battery acid as he tested the conductivity of all wires and replaced ones that had fallen victim to rats or whatever other cruel fate this thing had the displeasure to endure during its afterlife. Jack ignored when his ECHO again lit up with a new message that had come in, smiling to himself a little as he promptly went back to connecting another tiny wire, not even turning around to look at the lit up screen next to him. 

Jack’s plans of getting his old ECHO back from the dead thankfully didn’t take too long to let Tassiter get much more annoyed than he already was, and as soon as the programmer was done with his successful work he leaned back and reached for it to reply. He typed a simple, “I’m on it” and, seeing how ridiculously angry Tassiter had become at his lack of a reply, he added, “Calm down and drink some $500 champagne or whatever it is you do”

Setting the device back down again he now plugged in the one he had repaired, a small satisfied “Yes” leaving him when the computer recognized it and opened its data. He was a genius, really; Tassiter’s stubbornness was the only reason he hadn’t been given a Nobel Prize and elected as the new CEO yet.

He launched the executable file. 

Another password prompt lit up on his screen.

“For fuck’s—“ Reaching for his ECHO, Jack typed with an annoyance that was far too much for somebody who had earlier doubted this entire plan and had considered throwing this drive into the tiny waterfall near the living quarters, but he was justified in his frustration if this had all just been a great unenjoyable waste of time. 

**[07:57pm] HJack69:** hey, whats with all the security?  
**[07:57pm] HW_Tassiter:** I’m not sure what you mean.  
**[07:57pm] HJack69:** this thing is constantly asking me to tell it some password that I dont know, its super annoying  
**[07:57pm] HW_Tassiter:** Right. I did forget about that. I will tell you the password next time; just make sure to keep it confidential.  
**[07:57pm] HJack69:** why cant you just tell me now?  
**[07:57pm] HW_Tassiter:** John.  
**[07:57pm] HW_Tassiter:** I want you to do something that you very rarely do, so it might be difficult for you, but just try very hard and think for a second. Dust off your cerebrum and use it.  
**[07:57pm] HJack69:** right. not safe. got it.  
**[07:57pm] HJack69:** you know you can just tell me things without insulting me right  
**[07:57pm] HJack69:** sometimes it seems like if you did that you would straight up die  
**[07:57pm] HW_Tassiter:** I take joy in your immeasurable stupidity, simple as that.  
**[07:58pm] HJack69:** :/  
**[07:58pm] HW_Tassiter:** This conversation is over. I will call upon your services when I wish.  
**[07:58pm] HJack69:** alright, good talk

Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he briefly read over the other’s messages once more. Tassiter somehow managed to have his tone of voice carry over even through text - his typed words had the property of being just as condescending and cold as his spoken ones, and they were laced with that exact same feeling of superficial superiority. He could almost hear the man speak into his ear when he read what he had written, a thought that wasn’t all too pleasant. 

Desperate to continue his plans of testing the waters of this “security software” he had been handed, Jack tried to see whether there was much more he could do besides stare at his computer screen, something he was already busy with during his regular work hours. He attempted to open up the .exe file once more, and, not very surprised at the window that promptly popped up, tiredly slumped back down into the pillows piled up against his bedframe.  
He then reached for the old ECHO on his bed, deciding to play around with it a little before his need to give up would inevitably catch up to his exhausted mind. He sifted through the different menus, the old design of them alone giving him such an immense feeling of nostalgia and painful melancholy he didn’t know whether he’d be able to work with this thing much longer. 

Repressed colors of bottled up memories threatened to repaint what he had left behind, and he rolled over to his side to curl into a small ball of building misery. He should’ve thrown the thing away when he had first had the chance, yet it was still here to taunt him now, just like _she_ had always done - her raspy voice as cutting as the acid of an old battery, wounds on Jack’s small frame stinging with the pulsating pain of having touched an open wire.

He stared at the old ECHO, wishing to rip off its tiny pathetic malfunctioning buttons and kick in its low-resolution screen until its flickering image would never return. He kept himself from acting on his needs for that violence though, seeing as if he destroyed it now, he would run the risk of his real, good ECHO Recorder being run into the ground by some Trojan or whatever else it was that Tassiter had snuck onto the small drive still plugged into Jack’s computer.  
Acting only on boredom and not much else now, Jack decided he would try something which he wasn’t sure would even work, but really, what else was there left to do. The only alternative plan was to go to sleep or browse the ECHOnet, and he was keen on neither nightmares nor dead memes. 

He checked to see if his old ECHO was still hooked up to his laptop, and when the opening of its contents succeeded he simply copied the .exe file over into its registry. With that last tingle of hope still beating in his chest, Jack then opened the File Commander application on the old device, searching for the path he had placed the file in. When he pressed on it, he was once again in awe of the fact that none of his coworkers had pointed out before just how clever he was.  
It seemed that while the outdated interface of the ECHO could recognize the file itself, it did not take notice of its security measures, and thus he could pass the breach of entering a password with a more breezing ease than moving past the “You must be this tall to ride” sign to a roller coaster in an amusement park built for midgets. 

Jack’s tired face lit up with a grin. “Now show me what it is you’ve been hiding from me… Let’s see…”, he said, attempting to read through a menu which obviously was not cut out for an interface as old as the one of the ECHO device it currently found itself on. It would have to deal with it, as Jack was rather intrigued in finding out just what exactly he had spent his past hour and a half of his life on. 

He enhanced the font with a press of his fingers on the small screen, until he could see just fine a rather elegant collection of letters that read, in a pleasant shade of bright wine red, “Welcome To _Rosie_ ”. Not a long way underneath he found the menu tab, and tapping on it unfolded multiple registries ranging from the simple link to create an account to one that particularly sparked Jack’s interest, as it read “Tracking”.  
Jack was already certain he was being spied on by multiple people whose sole purpose it was to do so and who probably knew his morning routine better than he did, so just what in the world would Tassiter need this for? What was its purpose?

There was an “Information” tab which Jack hoped would clear up his confusion, but it only made it all the more frustrating as the only information which came up on his screen was the very helpful “You need no further instructions; You know why you are here. Seek out the ones that brought you in and lead even more.” 

Very informative indeed. 

This thing didn’t seem much like security software but rather like a modern day pamphlet by some cult wanting to spread their very ambiguous and unclear message to the people who were willing to listen, which was probably just about one person on a desolated moon far off from any rationally thinking civilization. Jack scrolled through some of the text on the front page of it some more, hoping for something to turn up that would give him some insight to how it worked and whether it even had the feature of a security software, or if perhaps Tassiter had simply handed him the wrong drive. The installation software Jack was used to was quick and to the point, unlike whatever this was - maybe he had just gotten that used to Hyperion so that every other approach now seemed foreign and inefficient. But this really was just that and nothing more; it was confusing like a maze of unreadable code he hadn’t learnt yet, and so he exited the program left with more questions than answers.

He decided to dabble in its other files which he could now open without the use of a password, deciding to open up the oldest one first. It was an ECHOnet chat log of over five hours worth of text which Jack really could not feel less like reading through. Unfortunately there was no summary on some wikia for what seemed to be highly confidential log files, though he really wished there was. He only skimmed through it, but stopped at small keywords that took him by surprise: The Vault, Vault Hunters, The Destroyer-- The Satellite-- How did they know? The Eye--

Who were these people, talking about what had been his plans years ago? He had only revealed his doings once the monster in the Vault had been defeated, so how could they have known, _two years ago_? 

Jack explored the chat further, now reading more closely, his eyes moving rapidly over a countless number of carefully written sentences that these strangers must’ve thought would never meet other eyes than their very own.

“We must inform the board of this immediately. It could be a threat to the mission.” One of them read, the username of both conversation partners lost to the depths of an erased file. Jack held the screen of the ECHO closer to his nose. “No, we really shouldn’t.”, the text of another user read in response. “Just use your brain and think for a second. Do you really think they will believe us? A giant monster with a weapon as powerful as the sun? You’d deem even me crazy had I not shown you yesterday.” – “Yes, but the plans to-“, the message cut off here, leaving Jack with only a heap of indecipherable symbols, and the rest of it where it picked up again, “-re always faced with the threat of failure, you cannot-“ – “Let’s just see where this leads us. I will continue to observe him closely.” _Him?_ – “Please inform me of any unusual activity if you see fit. We will speak again,-“

Jack sat back on his bed, the touch of his pillows against his back was a softness he really did need right now. He felt like he had just stumbled into the scribbled pages of a confusing novel, the plot of which was only vaguely beginning to unfold in front of him like a map of a foreign city, its thin pages helplessly stuck together in the glovebox of the car full of a thick and suffocating summer heat. 

They’d been talking about The Destroyer, months before Jack managed to lure the Vault Hunters on Pandora into killing it for him to get their hands on those stupid riches which they had so desperately dreamed of having, only to be met with a heap of purple tentacles and disappointment.  
There clearly had to be some mole inside of the space station selling information of his plans to somebody on the outside - but who could it be? Who was that other person, talking so very secretively as if their life depended on constantly sounding like a deep and calculated Sherlock Holmes villain? They were even worse than Tassiter could be. He seemed pleasant to talk to in comparison. Speaking of the devil though- could he have been the other one talking? The comment about using their brain certainly did reek of the man’s very polite conversation techniques, but Jack doubted he had the capability to predict his plans and track him this efficiently. The man might act like he was so clever, but technology was where his train of confidence came to a sudden halt - he was familiar with old tech, for sure - things that were just as tastelessly vintage as his perfume - but if you were to sit him in front of one very simple modern script he wouldn’t be able to tell the function of even the most primitive command. It was simply not his expertise, and Jack wasn’t judging; heaven knows he would never bother with all the red tape of running a billion dollar company on a goddamned giant floating space station. He wouldn’t want to even dream of all the bureaucracy and boring paper-signing that had to involve. Even in his worst nightmares he’d much rather settle with the classic feeling of his own torturous death in great detail or the occasional weird sensation of cute-girl-turns-into-an-eldritch-horror-while-we’re-having-hot-sex-and-now-she’s-eating-my-face-oh-no. That one was in fact much more enjoyable than it sounded.

The file did not hold much else of worth, only the one user making reports on activity from the person he had set to observing. Amidst some reports of his work, most of them were rather boring, telling of things such as “Has taken five more minutes to shower today” or “Bought a different lunchbox than the day before”. Were these people aware that not every man was a robot?

Jack decided to look into the next file on his ECHO because he might as well; there was nothing to lose here, really. 

The conversation was dated to around two months later, and Jack guessed the time to be around the Vault Hunters getting close to taking on the Destroyer. They couldn’t have reached it yet, since there was not much talk of it anyway let alone its death, only in the beginning of the log they mentioned it briefly before it then drifted off into further reports on whoever this mystery person was. Jack wished he could go back in time and find them to inform them they were being spied on by two very high nosed sounding gentlemen - or women, Jack had no way of knowing - and that, if they valued their privacy even the smallest bit, they should follow the simple escape plan of running and never looking back. 

With his strained eyes squinted tightly in the darkness of his room, Jack read over the rest of their chat log, becoming quite annoyed with just how much useless information the one user kept giving about his target - the kind of clothes he wore and whenever he wore different clothes and for what reason he wore them, the style his hair was in, and every single smallest one of his nervous habits - what good was any of this ever going to bring to whatever these people’s mission was? Jack’s confusion seemed to reflect just a little in the conversation partner, who with calculated words at one point exclaimed,  
“Quit these unnecessary comments on the target. They are not needed. Frankly, one might think you are stupidly lost in love with how much you are describing the shape of his face rather than what his latest ECHOlogs are. Please continue to send only crucial reports and I shall be thankful.”

Jack let out a small laugh at that drop of mockery. This guy got it. _Stupidly in love_ \- whoever spied on another person and let out every smallest aspect of their personal life to what was nothing more than a name on a screen had no value of that very same person, and thus could not ever feel that strongly for them. Though it did make for a nice insult, and their response really did seem a small bit hurt,  
“If you want to continue cooperation, refrain from saying such immature things. You may be under the impression that we humans busy ourselves with romance-“ So the other guy was an alien? This sure was taking interesting turns, “-but I’ve never seen much of a sense in that.” – “I must admit, this sounds depressing. Please do not occupy me with your personal issues, though.”  
– “Today, the target wore a bright yellow sweater with a button-up shirt underneath. During his lunch break, he changed into only the white button-up with a brown leather jacket. Will observe further to find reasons for this.” – “-, Please cease conversation about target’s choice of wardrobe.”

These logs were utterly useless. They had seemed like they’d carry some viable information at first, but under their shining wrapping of mystery they only revealed themselves as what felt like a small child’s disappointment over a wrong present on Christmas Eve. Jack hummed a disinterested “Hm” as he scrolled through the rest of the chat, then, growing bored of it, opened up another from about a year ago. 

It seemed like the frequency of their conversations had slimmed down to a bare minimum; though maybe Jack was just missing the rest of the logs in between, but if he wasn’t, he had a theory on why exactly the alien had grown tired of their conversation partner, and it involved a great deal of talking about irrelevant fashion choices. The log started with a report by who seemed to be the human listing off the current status of their mission, including progress on the excavation of the Destroyer that was now defeated. 

“- going swiftly, we will be able to see its installation done within the next few months. Thank you for all your help along the way.” – “It is my pleasure. What is the status of your vessel?” – “The usual. Not much to report here. Though there has been a small power outage a few weeks ago when one of the Claptrap units attempted to fling himself into the trash compactor to attempt suicide and as a result got electrocuted by that disgusting bile-filled water in it. Promptly fried all the main circuits, thankfully we were able to use the emergency power. I must say I’m almost impressed with how poorly the wiring has been done throughout this station. I should really see about firing whoever is responsible for that mess, but frankly I have no idea who it is.” – “I hope the problem has vanished now?”, the reply read in a tone that could almost be one of concern. – “Yes, of course. Well, one worker died while attempting to fix some breaker, but that’s his fault for using a metal screwdriver instead of a plastic one.”

Jack skipped a way down since he didn’t exactly care much to relive the power outage on Helios that had made him miss the Mad Moxxi show on the day of its finale. Seriously, the universe couldn’t have picked a worse timing to torment him like that.

“-See, that’s what you don’t understand, that’s the problem of you not being human- you don’t know just how greedy and dangerously selfish we can be.“ – “Trust me, I am well aware. But what could be such a great threat about a simple worker? Didn’t you say yourself he would never amount to anything of worth?” – “It’s not about what he has done; it’s what I’m afraid he’ll be capable of doing once I allow him to progress much further. I’ve got to put a stop to it.” – “He was this plan’s sole incentive. Are you willing to kill what brought you here?” – “Not kill him, good lord! Are you picking up behavior from bandits?” – “Rather, I have adapted to your lack of moral rules and am now applying them to you. But please, keep speaking.” – “It would certainly fill me with a great joy to kill him, in fact, I’ve even had a dream about that fairly recently-- but I can’t. I cannot do it. I’ll simply have to… Put him in his place. Restrain him; keep him where he is right now. If that doesn’t work, I’ll need to resort to waiting for his own stupidity to catch up to him and make him walk into a wall until his brain is even deader than it already is, or something of the likes.” – “That sounds very unpleasant.” – “As it should be.”


	6. Subliminal Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Jack had never been too good at keeping secrets locked behind closed doors, especially if said secrets involved himself and thus resulted in a great feeling of betrayal and a need for answers. Though he knew he had to keep quiet, that itch of a need for clarity in his confusion and interest only continuously begged to be scratched, and he had to try his damned hardest not to give in and just text his boss a bold "What the fuck". It would get across perfectly well what he was feeling.

Those ECHOlogs he had skimmed through last night still burnt an annoying hole through his thoughts and stopped him in the tracks of whatever he was planning to do at the moment. The need for answers had been so great he had even resorted to looking up that program - Rosie - on the ECHOnet, only to be met with a disappointingly high number of user profiles on various sites whose names were just that. So much for availability and uniqueness. Whoever had developed that program only continued to prove themselves to be a giant grade-A idiot. 

Jack scrubbed off the rest of the small breadcrumbs of what had been his breakfast on his plate, placing it into the kitchen drawer with a stretch of his arm that made an annoying ache bolt down through his back. Tassiter really should've thought twice about what slamming him into a desk more than just once would do to his body; even if it was his intention to break the young employee, this was where intimidating arousal stopped and an unpleasant visit to the hospital usually started.  
Thankfully it was only a small tingle of back pain through which his body now chose to express its dismay, but once he'd start to really feel like falling apart he'd have to ask the man to reconsider his methods of expressing affection.  
Jack was almost desperate to meet up with the CEO again, for reasons that could not be further from what his thoughts had just drifted off into. He needed answers, and he needed more than just a stubborn "That is none of your concern." or a "Don't you have better things to busy yourself with? I hear those blocks with various letters and numbers on them are supposedly very entertaining. You can even stack them and create towers, I'm sure you'd like that."

He went to wash the detergent off his hands, knowing they would still smell of that aggressive lime for the rest of the day and likely it would carry on into tomorrow as well. Once he had rubbed his hands off on a towel quickly, he shuffled his tired legs into his bedroom, deciding that it was finally time to get his apartment-dwelling self into an atmosphere that was still air-conditioned and cramped, but just slightly less so. 

Settling for a simple combination of his favorite jeans and a yellow shirt, Jack threw on his jacket as well after careful consideration about whether he'd like to keep it for another day to freeze to death in a space station whose CEO was too greedy to spend even a fraction of his immensely huge budget on heating. Really, who needed funds for new high-tech keyboards when your fingers would freeze at every press of a key?  
Jack took a good look at himself in the mirror that was attached to one door of his wooden wardrobe, holding a black tie in front of him which he then promptly discarded, throwing it back onto his bed. It was a Saturday; whoever decided to wear ties on a Saturday was either living the worst possible corporate life with hours scheduled to torment them even on weekends, or they were simply an arrogant snob, and probably the boss of that first poor guy. 

He felt the note that was still stuffed at the bottom of his left jeans pocket, more useless than an empty, sticky package of gum. Reaching into the pocket he pulled out the small paper, staring at it for a moment before realizing that this was indeed the most purposeless object in his current possession. Why had he even bothered constructing a plan for meetings with a man who he knew was, to a reasonable extent, unpredictable? He could’ve created an entire blueprint full of phrases to use, ways to express himself and his desires in mimic and gesture; he could’ve planned out every smallest aspect of what would leave his lips, and still, _still_ the other would find some way to use it to his own advantage, to turn Jack’s entire preset of carefully thought out confidence around, to turn _him_ around and throw him against that awfully well organized office desk, pushing his head hard against its surface with that persistent grip in his hair, his voice carrying clearly with every word he spoke the message, _don’t even try._  
Jack shivered, pulling up his leather jacket to hide in it from the feeling that was eating away at him somewhere he couldn’t quite place. 

Without much more effort put into looking less tired than he was, Jack finally left his apartment, the lock in the door behind him falling into place with a click. A small gust of wind hit his face, and he looked up to see a package delivery drone had rushed past hastily. Had he stood only a small distance further from his apartment door, the parcel it was carrying likely would’ve knocked him out cold, which honestly he wouldn’t have complained too much about if there weren’t the nuisance of hospital bills - even for workplace injuries Hyperion did not bat an eye, much less actual financial support. After all, it was the worker’s fault for deciding to stand in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jack put his tired feet to work, moving them sluggishly into the direction of the Helios marketplace. It felt like they didn’t want to move, didn’t feel even the slightest bit of desire for what was to follow, which was even more exhausted steps. He hadn’t exactly figured out what he wanted to spend this day on - improve his high score of staring out the huge station windows for hours, or buy useless things at the market that he would only make use of once and then never let them see the light of day again, leaving them stuffed away to rot underneath his bed or in the bottom of his drawers? Feed the fishes in the hallway that led to the unfinished section of Research and Development and watch as they fight over breadcrumbs until one after the other they’d declare war and develop cannibalistic traits, so that he could film it and upload it on the ECHOnet? An entire world of equally boring and monotone possibilities was stretched out before him, and he wanted to do nothing more but go back to curling into a ball of blankets on his soft, warm bed. 

Most of the shops in the market section of the station were closed, their empty buildings looking lifeless and gloomy without the light of a cheap bulb to shine onto their two dollar discount signs. The few ones in that vast sea of shops that had decided to open on this day decided to make that fact very clear to any passerby, gleefully displaying the joy of spending your hard earned money on useless gimmicks even on a day off work with colorful blinking signs.  
Jack made his way along the paved halls and past the windows that showed off weapons, accessories, flowers - everything one needed for a successful date or a rendezvous with an old rival. None of the items particularly piqued his interest and so he went along his way, ignoring advertising employees that stood at the entrance to various shops, promoting their articles in a very, very annoying way – pamphlets, free samples, Jack could not care less, and so he shoved them all out of his way with words at first – “Please, go away”, “I’m expected somewhere” (No, he wasn’t), “No, I don’t want to buy your stupid soup maker, for crying out loud, how many more times—“, and soon with a punch of his elbow that wasn’t too rough but made it clear he did not give two flying shits about what type of mixer was the best one to use for a tropical smoothie. 

Needless to say, a feeling that was not unlike one of relief washed over Jack once his feet had managed to carry him up the last flight of stairs to a rail of small train tracks above, free from what was drowned more heavily in capitalism than the entire rest of Helios already was. Leaning his elbows on it he looked over the railing of a small bridge that led to a delivery point for armory, watching the steadily fluctuating traffic of shipments float in and out of the station from afar.

Everything worked on such a tight schedule here, each smallest component clicking together with the next to build the formation of a clockwork of never-ending productivity, rattling and rattling away, with many oblivious to all that tireless work. Jack was more than aware of it; he’d had his fair share in programming some of the essential time sensitive code that was used in many of the docking stations for delivery drones, he had developed small parts of the AI inside those metallic chunks that called themselves loader bots and were responsible for unloading those very same shipments; without fail, every single time did they do as they were told, as they had been programmed and preset, much better and more reliable than any worker could ever dream of performing. Only when their restless joints had to be oiled up or their huge body of machinery needed recharging did they turn back into something that needed to be taken care of and attended to, that needed to be given help.  
They were replaceable, but so was every single worker on this station - the only difference was they did not worry about the constant possibility of their termination. This was what separated them, and what made Jack so interested in robotics in the first place. Sure, it was cool and an immensely intriguing thing to tell on a first date - “Did you know I work on AI? In fact, I’ve developed many of the--“ – “Shut up and have my babies right now, you hell of a handsome programmer!” - but the real fascination lay in the thinning border between the capabilities of humanity and artificial intelligence. 

Jack pushed himself up from the cold metal of the safety railing, stealing one more glance at the massive towers in the distance before setting foot in the direction of his next attempt at eradicating his boredom – the bank. Since Helios station felt like it was, at least by its internal structures, the size of a small state, obviously they required their very own bank, with a building as ridiculously huge as was Tassiter’s ego. Jack still wasn’t sure whether he had even been the one to order the construction of it – he made a mental note to ask the guy about it next time he would have the misfortune of standing across his displeasing face – but the complex most definitely looked like it had been designed by someone who went around wiping his butt with dollar bills.  
Even though it was kept in the style of the monotonous sea of black and reddish skyscrapers and office blocks across the station, the building still managed to stand out with the occasional conceited gold plating and a terribly huge number of dimmed glass windows to its sides and front that would make even the most dedicated window cleaner throw down their bucket in protest and quit their underpaid job.  
The stairs at the entrance to it were much larger than they needed to be, considering commotion in and out of this bank was likely stuck at a healthy number of two people a day. Inside, the sound of Jack’s heels echoed off the marble and whatever else immensely and uselessly expensive material was worked into the confines of the huge circular entry hall. Jack stepped up to one of the small automats in a side room of the hall, punching in his code with an impatience that made it very clear to anyone watching him – which had to be security cameras only, it was almost eerily quiet in here – that he wanted to do nothing more but to get this over with quickly so that he could return to his cozy apartment, where he would then brainlessly binge-watch gameshows all night until his body’s need for rest would get the better of him.  
Though Jack couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy as many of his late night shows as he usually could in those rare times that were spent alone in his apartment; the thought that Tassiter would again make use of the reason Jack now found himself at the bank in the first place, to check whether the payment for his gratuitous “services” had gone through yet, plagued him like a broken leg; he dragged it behind him and it wouldn’t let him leave without an answer. Yet the only thing he knew for certain now was that said payment had in fact not been added to his account yet, and the disgracefully low number he was so painfully used to seeing which now stared back at him on the screen of the small machine only made him irrationally angry. How hard could it be to make a simple bank transfer? He bet it wouldn’t even turn out to be much; really, any imaginable sum of cash was too little to make up for the emotional turmoil the man had forced Jack to go through these last days. He pulled a frown, closing the menu on the screen again and withdrawing his card from the small slot at the side. 

Once outside again, Jack’s eyes fell on the tower at the center of the station which housed Tassiter’s office, huge and imposingly arrogant. Where did greed stop and simple impoliteness begin? Jack had given him what he wanted, exactly what he wanted, and now the man had the audacity to call it quits on holding up his end of the bargain? This was just uncalled for. 

Deciding he would simply return to his apartment and waste away what remained of the day, maybe go through the rest of those useless ECHO logs he had found in hopes of lastly discovering something more of worth amidst their code, the young programmer slowly made his way back to the living quarters. He pulled out his ECHO to pass the time, checking to see if he had more than an astonishingly high number of zero messages for once. He opened up his chats. Nothing, obviously – his inbox was as dry as a desert’s grain of sand on Pandora. Jack’s finger hovered briefly over the chat with the contact he’d lovingly saved as “Assiter” in his device, but he quickly discarded whatever shortsighted thought had led it there, and he stuffed the ECHO back into his pocket. 

The lock to his apartment gave way to the force of his keys with not exactly a small amount of resistance. He had called to have the stupid thing replaced months ago, but the service had never come, and so he was still stuck with a lock that could trap him in or outside of his apartment at any given time. He hoped that when the moment would come, he’d find himself on the warmer, more comfortable side of the door.  
Jack stepped inside, having accomplished nothing and looking forward to doing even more of just that. How glorious would it be to simply sit on his bed, surrounded by soft pillows, basking in the sweet sensation that was nothingness with a side dish of cheap potato chips? That was a rhetorical question, as Jack knew the answer to it better than he did the contents of his pockets - who knew what horrors lay amidst year old recipes and hastily scribbled crumpled up notes. 

Changed into a more comfortable attire after a hot shower, Jack slumped down on his bed, not giving much of a notice to the fact that it was merely 3:40pm. A day spent in bed meant a day less spent dead. 

He rolled over onto his back, spreading his arms out to his sides and feeling the soft covers of his bedsheets underneath. Occasionally he truly had to scold himself for being this unhappy with his living space - of course, it was nothing to be too proud of and in no way a great accomplishment which he could show off at those grand dinner parties he wasn’t invited to, but it was still his and it was still a place of retreat and rest. He was thankful the days of shared dorms were far behind him, only existing now as a distant memory of worse and much more claustrophobic times.  
The dull echo of footsteps in the apartments above made their way through the thin roof and into his ears, but Jack didn’t mind much, having long gotten used to what was part of nothing more but a background noise. He rolled over to the side, putting up one hand under his head to prop himself up on the bed.  
He eyed his laptop, closed and snoring away in a peaceful electronic sleep on top of his work desk. It wouldn’t hurt to read more of those scripts, would it? How much worse than a bit more wasted time could ever come out of it? Besides, Jack had nothing to lose and only an infinite amount of more boredom to gain. He reached over to the desk, pulling the laptop onto the bed with him. 

The fact that these ECHO logs had seemed so intriguing and enigmatic at first was what really sparked Jack’s confusion. All that talk behind closed curtains about the Destroyer and the powerful alien weaponry that was its eye had certainly required to remain undisclosed to any curious eyes and ears when its discovery had only been known to those few who were trusted and involved in the mission, but what purpose did all this secrecy and encryption serve in times where these accomplishments were more than public, heroically praised by many; when all that was confidential had long been spilled in drops of praise for the company and for Jack? Well, not as much for Jack as he’d liked; after all, it had been him who had led the incentive and who had succeeded in luring the Vault Hunters to follow his plans; he knew he deserved much more praise than he had gotten, but in the end he had remained humble. He now knew Tassiter better than he ever would’ve liked to, and frankly he wouldn’t be surprised if the man had actually been born with a physical incapability to compliment anyone but himself. But what was the use in locking these files behind the wall of a password when their contents were nothing worth hiding? 

Jack decided to ignore most of the logs he hadn’t read yet, settling for the most recent one that dated back to only a little shorter than two months ago. He skipped over the messages mentioning the Destroyer and the planned installment of its eye that had been delayed due to a shortage in transportation ships for the large body part, as Jack still knew of all of those issues perfectly well. Hopping through the walls of long text, he stopped occasionally to read a few sentences until finally he decided to jump in at one passage he found decidedly curious. 

“Cut it out. One might think you are stricken with an unhealthy obsession.” – “I’m not. You don’t understand this, any of this, why would you ever?” – “You must let your mind let go of him. He does not pose any threat. I have informed you of this time and time again.” – “It’s not about him being a threat, for God’s sake! If you would just listen to me for once- does your species not have ears?” – “This conversation is text based.” – “Whatever, just let me carry on in my plans while you hold up to what you’ve promised. Deliver me the parts for the laser and excavate the rest of the eye from the dig site. It’s not that hard to do. Are we understood?” – “Do not use the status of the Eye as a way to divert from the previous topic. Your mental condition is just as essential to the mission as is functioning weaponry and cranes. State; what is your precise issue with the man?” 

The next message had apparently taken the other a while to send, as its timestamp read a time that was a longer way from the previous message than all the ones before it. 

“He is too perfect. In every sense of the word. He does not have any flaws, except for that loudmouthed personality of his, but even that imperfection just adds to it and I want to kill him for it, I want to wrap my hands around his throat and -“, a small shiver ran down Jack’s spine at the spark of a memory, and he leaned closer to the screen. He had already been very certain this man worked for Hyperion, but this need for violence against, well, somebody, only further drove his point home and then promptly crashed through the home’s living room to drown it in flames with an explosion of gasoline.  
“I want to see the light leave his flawless eyes but I cannot act on that urge because he has contributed much more to our success than each of us ever have.”  
– “You should go see a… sorry, what was it that you called it?” – “A therapist?” – “Yes. That.” 

 

Jack sat back on the mattress, running his hand along his chin in slow, thoughtful circles. He had to agree with the alien guy on this one - a therapist really seemed deeply needed here. It was uncanny just how much the human reminded him of Tassiter, and yet he still had a doubt in his mind that it could really be him. Why would he hand Jack a drive that held these conversations if he himself was involved in them? He clearly did not want even a drop of his personal life to see the light of day; he was so hell-bent on holding inside thick secretive walls everything he could protect and hold dear about himself, so why would he give away something so essential?  
Still, he could hear the man’s voice when his eyes sifted through some of these messages, those hateful words that would fit so very perfectly into his mouth, expressions of frustration and a seemingly unreasonable wish for cruelty - it just felt so much like him. Jack shifted on the bed, attempting to get himself into a more comfortable position, without much success. He rubbed at his eyes, then checked his system clock to see it had barely turned a quarter past four. 

If it truly was Tassiter, what had been his intentions for keeping in contact with what Jack still assumed to be an alien ally? Was the purpose of their cooperation really only built on a need for support with the Destroyer’s retrieval, or was there more to it?  
Jack’s mind was racing with questions, and he leaned his head back on the pillows underneath in the hopes that maybe the boring white paint of his apartment ceiling would bring him any much needed clarity. He then grabbed his ECHO Recorder from the nightstand, not quite knowing why. Once he had made very sure that indeed nobody had called him, which was not an unusual occurrence, so why was he so oddly worked up-- once he had made it very clear to his mind that there was nothing else to do with this small device other than stare at it as it lay uselessly in his hand, he threw it to his side on the bed, sighing a defeated breath. 

He had gotten to the point where he would now normally get up on his tired feet, shuffle over to the adorable mini fridge he had in his kitchen, get himself a snack that would undoubtedly be very unhealthy, and resort to what could only be referred to as “Boredom Emergency Program”. And he was bored; in every sense of the word the young worker was bored out of his terribly unoccupied mind, and the lack of something to do, anything- it was eating away at him. Jack dreaded when his mind was forced to idle, when he was left alone not only physically but mentally. The boat of his thoughts drifted and drifted along an uncertain path, and he was not the one who steered it, he could only shout and wave his arms in vain as the stupid thing crashed into sandbanks and ran in the immediate direction of a waterfall with not an ounce of care.  
There was a bit of irony to the fact that while he was at work in his small office, in those rare moments in which his hands were allowed to rest from their constant typing and scribbling on datasheets, he wanted nothing more but a good, long break; he wanted to return to where he now lay around so uselessly with no tasks, no orders to follow or deadlines to meet, nothing. Maybe this work life really was getting to him; he felt like a waste of carbon and space without any rules to live up to and, when he was feeling up for it, to break. 

Jack’s eyes fell upon his ECHO once again, lying face down on his mattress where he had thrown it next to him. 

Just how desperate would Tassiter be, he wondered – when would he next “call upon his services” as he had so conscientiously put it? The thought of whatever the man was planning to do next wouldn’t give Jack a rest and he hated it; he despised that touch which he couldn’t seem to forget, that horribly arrogant voice of his repeating what he had said to him like there was not a greater hatred he felt in his life than the one for him, no matter how much Jack wished to let it go. But his words had nested in his head like a disgusting parasite, and he did attempt to put up resistance, he fought them, their cruelty, their stubbornness – no he _didn’t_ want this, at no point had he _ever_ wanted this. There was no point in going back, no point, but he was blind in this vast sea of frustration and all he needed was to be let go, yet in an ironic contrast he wished nothing less but to be left on his own again. Autonomy was both his greatest asset and the root of his defeat and insecurity, and there was no thought more unpleasant in his mind than the one of Tassiter using that same characteristic to his advantage, inflicting what he would deem entertaining suffering on Jack when he wasn’t even in the same room. It would give him such immense satisfaction, that enjoyment of seeing his inferior bordering on the feeling of downright misery because of the mere memory of his actions. He would even laugh at it, marvel in the beauty that was Jack’s agony; he would thrive from it, his words laced with a biting sarcasm, hot like burning acid where they would touch down on Jack’s skin- so close--

Jack let out a shaky breath, letting his eyes fall closed.  
He brought up one hand to touch on the small part of his neck where he could still feel the residue of what had been an entire field of abhorrent bruises, turned an ugly shade of blue he had had the misfortune of viewing when he had caught an unwanted glimpse of them in the bathroom mirror after his shower. Why Tassiter was so awfully possessive in nature and chose to show it this way Jack didn’t know, and really he did not want to know. It had to be some deeply rooted issue that he would rather not make an effort to dig up, as he wasn’t exactly eager to deal with more trauma than his own. It was far enough, he was good like this, thank you very much.  
Yet when he ran his fingers along what remained of those marks - the memory of a feeling, a touch of selfishness - he couldn’t help but feel a bit of that burn again, that stinging sensation that was far more pleasant than he would ever like to admit. He didn’t know what kind of twisted, fucked up turn his train of thought had taken, or whether it was just completely gone and crashed into a ditch, but in the far, far back of his mind, buried deep under a pile of biting shame, he knew lay the realization that he did want it, and that he did miss the feeling. The sensation was invigorating, like being shaken awake and struck with a burning adrenaline that would run through every smallest part of his body, filling him with regretfully evident desire. He longed for it and he wanted nothing more but for that very same feeling to die, to shrivel up right there in the back of his mind and to leave his skin as the ghost of a cursed memory that it now was and that it should always remain. Nothing more, because he wished for it to never seep into reality again. Nothing more, because he dreaded every smallest touch of the other on his skin, the low whisper of his voice, his sly grin that Jack could hear it carry even when his eyes were shut tight. The man dripped of power, of arrogance, a complete contrast to anything that was kindness and respect, and Jack despised himself for being even somewhat drawn to it.  
It showed in Tassiter’s actions, his chosen word, every move that felt so calculated; where he had touched him, his hands, the feeling of his lips against Jack’s collarbone-- it was so rational and cold, except for the rare time when it wasn’t, that small glimpse of a loss of authority and control. Jack liked to imagine that he had held even a small bit of power in that moment, where he had been the one to lead and to determine, yet he knew it was nothing more but a fantasy, a wish to break free from the obvious fact that it was still Tassiter who held the last end of the leash in his hands. 

Still Jack couldn’t help but wonder, as he was so very bored out of his mind that seemed to want to torment him just as much as his boss; as he was there lying on his side, still staring at his ECHO Recorder next to him; He couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift to what would be the true surrender of the other’s need for power and control, how that picture would choose to paint itself. Would he ever give himself up, truly lay it into Jack’s hands to lead and command? Likely he would not; he would rather die a painful death than to even think of a surrender of this kind, any surrender in fact. The man was ambitious, almost unhealthily so, and he made sure to express that fact everywhere he went – so why would he ever give it up? 

Jack had to admit though, the thought was intriguing. More than intriguing in fact; it gripped his attention in a way that was almost embarrassingly engaging. The contrast it posed was one of night and day, life and death, of love and hate – the image of his boss, vicious and greedy for control, giving up just that to be underneath Jack in every sense of the word, at his mercy; feeling the imprint of his hands against the other man’s skin, doing exactly what he had done to Jack with no mind paid to it, and now experiencing the exact consequences of these acts of malice, of a pure wish for the other person’s misery and nothing but. Yet now he would be on the receiving end of it, the weaker end, the one that would have to cave in and beg for mercy, of which Jack would show him none. He would drag his nails, dig his teeth and speak his words of vengeance, always laced with the wish for him to feel just what he had felt, precisely what he had felt, and basking in the look of uneasy hunger and desire for something he would never grant him.  
He would make it just as clear to him that escape was futile, that wishing for generosity was just the same, and that if he attempted to run, he would meet a much more unforgiving fate. 

Jack would run his hands along his chest, feeling the neat fabric of that disgustingly tasteless suit underneath- black and red, black and red, everything had to be black and red- he could just take a bucket full of blood from a fresh corpse and bathe the suit in it, nobody would notice- red and black, the memory of the marks he left and the lifeless color of the eyes that stared back into Jack’s. It would be so, so _very_ delightful to see the panic in them rise whenever Jack would apply even the smallest bit of pressure to his throat, to see his too sharp cheeks fill with a color that would give away the fact that he was indeed substantially enjoying this, that he felt just the same satisfaction as Jack would, if not more.  
He would torment and bother and _hurt_ ; he would work him up until he was nothing but a broken machine, a damaged motor that rattled and rattled away with pleas and begs of which Jack would hear none.  
At the thought, Jack swallowed dry nothingness in his throat. Letting out a breath that felt far too heated and much too heavy, he shifted on his mattress to lie on his back, his head against the end of his bed with a few pillows for soft, fluffy support. He stared at his computer, the screen of which had turned to a black shade that threw a look back at him with the unsightly reflection of his tired face. Noticing his lips hung open like ones of some eager, hungry dog, he quickly closed them shut, then did the same to his laptop once he had shut it down. He placed his old ECHO next to the computer on his desk, sitting it down on the wooden surface with little care like one would a stranger’s infant whom they greatly disliked. 

Moving back into his bed, he felt no need to pull up the covers – had his room always been this hot? If the air conditioning was broken again, he would definitely move out – and so he went to grab his ECHO Recorder once more. He stared at its small buttons, the dial for the volume, the microphone, looking like cheap metal and scrap even though it was so new still- He stared, and an empty display stared back, vast and mocking in its emptiness. He played around with a small wheel to the side, turning it back and forth to listen to the small squeaking sound it made. Switching off the screen, his frustration looked right back at him once more, and he placed the small device on his bedside table so that he could go back to ignoring just how utterly and horribly bored he looked. 

His previous thoughts – one might even call them a fantasy, though they were far from being fantastic – had been engaging, disconcertingly so, and he failed in letting himself fall back into them.  
Tassiter might try - emphasis on _try_ \- to get Jack to do as he wanted, to follow his lead unknowingly while he remained under the impression it was in his own needs and intentions that he was acting. He might try to break free, and he might try to protest, but in the end, Jack wouldn’t leave him even the slightest chance at success. His voice would end up strained, drowned out under the sound of begs for what he knew would never be given to him; Jack would never give in because he had done so himself too many times before, over and over— his pathetic words would be drowned out under Jack’s own voice as well, commanding, clear and cutting and mocking and so very pleased with what his eyes would see and what his hands would feel.  
Still, the panicked rising and falling of his boss’ chest with uneven breaths and the need in his voice that for once in his life would not be busy insulting him would not yet be enough for Jack in order to feel like he had accomplished what he was looking for. And so he would tease, he would drag out and taunt and just be a real, merciless asshole because the man under his thumb would deserve nothing more and nothing less. He would only be satisfied once, after throwing him bits and pieces, small bites of nothing; after leading him to the edge and then gladly kicking him down instead of lifting him up; after hours that felt like eternity- once he would hear that final plea, a last hope of resort and forgiveness, almost inaudibly whispered under a trembling, utterly and beautifully embarrassed breath, his _real_ name— “ _Jack_ ”, the word would leave his mouth like a broken prison cell, the shame clear in his voice and his face, dreaded and despised but so, _so_ desperate. He would attempt to get closer to Jack in any way he could, to show him that he needed this, to order and command, but Jack would only observe him like Helios did Pandora, knowing and in control. 

Jack let out a breath he’d been holding, the thought of where his mind had dragged him to dancing around in his head and taking his ability to properly think and breathe. His pulse raced with the imagination of what would never be, and he felt an undying need to continue indulging in it; impulsively, he ran his hands along his chest, down and slowly, slowly further down, until he lifted up his shirt, smelling like lime- everything was biting lime- he dipped his fingers under the soft fabric, fresh from the wash, resting his open palm warm against the skin of where his torso joined his hips. The touch of his hand was slightly colder than the one where it now lay upon and he let the warmth of it be shared, not daring to move it, not even knowing why he had moved it there exactly. He looked up at the ceiling, white hopelessness and boredom staring back at him through a lazy paint job.  
Finally he let his hand move, dragging his shirt along upward to let the chill of his apartment touch down on him. He swallowed, his throat dry, again, when had it ever not been- and he shifted his legs on the bed without getting much more comfort out of it. His hopes for that hadn’t exactly been high, but higher than zero for sure. 

Jack would kiss him, not out of an act of affection but rather one of mockery, a gesture that reflected back just how much desire the other held for what he so actively denied wanting at all times – he would make him realize that not Jack was the true catalyst, but he was, in that he would return it so greedily and would drag his hands along Jack’s body with his nails grating like an angry predator that had transformed into weak, surrendering prey. Once he pulled away, he would be out of breath, staring back at Jack, back at what would be painted in pure satisfaction- passion, yes, but it would be void of love, of hope, of genuine care. And yet he would long for it; he would pull on Jack’s hair with that demanding grip, he would shout and boss around, but in the end, Jack would be the one to hold the trigger.  
A chill ran through him at the image of that control freak of a man so utterly stripped of all his defenses that he had nothing to resort to but to beg. Jack let the hand on his chest travel down again, much lower, low enough to make his breath pick up more than his compelling thoughts had already done. He hated the nearly unbearable heat that ran through him at every sound he imagined to be inflicting on the other, every smallest moan he would lure out of him; it would be more than a delight and Jack would truly despise himself for thinking this way had he not given up on his dignity a long while ago. That annoying, nigh nosed tone of what was once a cutting voice would turn into one of shame and embarrassment, and what used to be his derisive entertainment would lie on Jack’s side. He was delighted by the imagination of just how wonderful it would feel to throw everything back at him that he had insulted the young employee with, the mockery he had burdened him with; to have it turned around and applied to him, fitting so perfectly well in that very moment, when he would be down and so weak and so very needy in the same way that he tried his hardest to make Jack feel. Tassiter would despise the smile that would paint Jack’s lips; he would be stricken with a heated resentment yet at the same time he knew he would love it, would strive for it however strongly he attempted to hide that he did.  
Jack’s fingers came close, awfully close, to where he hated what a thorough and strong need these small thoughts instilled in him, but he wouldn’t dare to tread where his desire wished so badly for him to go. His breaths had turned much shorter than he liked them to be, and without much of a care his lips now remained open so very desperately as if the air in the space of his small apartment had become insufficient. He let his hand drag along his thighs instead, wishing but not quite wishing it were somebody else’s fingernails which allowed to let him feel that invigorating sting again. 

Already he felt a heat creep onto his cheeks that was not unlike the one he had felt the last time he had found himself in Tassiter’s office, down and obedient, on his knees, listening to his wish- He had become so needlessly desperate even then, with the other’s short moans to guide him. Every smallest of those responses had felt so much like the thrill of success, of knowing that he had done well, much better than the other would let on; and he would feel that same sensation of accomplishment if he had him underneath his thumb, roles reversed and satisfaction at his suffering on his side. What he would give to hear him beg, just one small plea, in that greedy voice turned weak with want- only one short ounce of the shame of giving in, the pure embarrassment he would be feeling so very evident-  
He would show it, his frustration; annoyed and with frantic gesture, he would show what he wanted, what Jack could grant him in theory but would not choose to give, simply because it would be much too entertaining to watch. He would attempt to insult him, still holding onto that measure because much else would not be left, and he would make himself heard but Jack would not open his ears to it. He would simply be in control- control, power, the addiction that was authority; he knew why this couldn’t be reality, because he wouldn’t be able to get enough – He would run his fingertips against his cheek, holding him so very gently, a painful contrast; he would get in close, so very close, and before the man could say a strained word Jack would do so for him, his thumb at his lips and strings he pulled in his hands. Dropping to a low whisper, an act that would make it so very apparent that they were the only two people in the room, that this was between them and only them, nothing more, he would speak, and his words would leave the other in a shiver. He would whisper, with his teeth so close to the other’s neck, threatening and waiting- He would whisper--

The notification sound of his ECHO made Jack jump in his bed with a shock that was almost as great as being jerked awake and told there was an atomic missile on the way to destroy his house, and his house only, all the other ones around him in his immediate neighborhood would be fine because that very sadistic missile only had it out for him and nobody else. He ran a hand through his hair – the hand that wasn’t busy still palming himself through the fabric of his clothing that is, the realization of which was now painfully embarrassing when left alone to rest in the open conscious space, void of sexual fantasies – and he threw an angry glance at the small device to his side, as if it was the reason for the sudden interruption rather than the person who the message had come from. And he knew exactly who it was.  
At first Jack planned to go down the simple path of not responding, holding a grudge which the other would never know of. Perhaps he could run the chance of making Tassiter believe that he was already slumbering away in a peaceful sleep, but that plan would be quickly rendered nonsensical by the fact that it had to be no later than 6pm and that, even on the odd schedule created by the fact that he chose to be living on a giant space station with no natural day and night cycles, no sane person would ever be sleeping on 6pm on a Saturday. 

Grudgingly, he grabbed his ECHO Recorder off the nightstand, viewing the text that threw its artificial glow back at him from the small screen. 

**[05:47pm] HW_Tassiter:** My office. Five minutes.  
**[05:47pm] HW_Tassiter:** Do not be late, or there will be consequences. 

A groan of frustration was Jack’s first reaction to seeing what was undoubtedly an invitation to something he’d rather not think too much about, the only difference to that analogy being that an invitation could still be turned down without much worry.  
“Or there will be consequences” – God, he made himself sound like such a stuck-up, stern school teacher with the lack of morals and respect to match. Did he realize that he sounded like an utter idiot; did he know that Jack did not take him seriously, because he didn’t want to and the choice not to do so was so very easy? Did he comprehend the idiocy that was the bold request he was asking? Likely he wasn’t. He didn’t exactly brand himself as a gentleman, and really, even if he tried he would fail miserably. This was no treatment to be giving somebody with whom one shared such a strong and personal intimacy and- well, not trust, but surely there was something there- what was the word- ah, yes. Hatred. Still, Jack felt like it fit him in the way his own fist would fit his fractured skull, like the stinging bite of his teeth fit the crook of Jack’s neck. His hand went up to touch it, once again, that mass of bruises – why wouldn’t they vanish faster? This was pure torture, even after the physical, real one was long done with. 

Five minutes was impossible, and Jack knew it was on purpose that he had chosen a timespan so unrealistically short. The man prided himself in being right even if there had been no wrong, and this was no exception. There were no exceptions.  
No way in hell would Jack ever manage to drag himself out of bed, find jeans that would do at least a half-assed job at hiding that he’d gotten himself so embarrassingly worked up with what had been mere elaborate fantasizing, and then rush to the asshole’s office only to have him pounce on him like he was some brand new print fresh hundred dollar bill and he wanted to be the first to put his fingerprints on him. 

With a long, painfully dragged out “Ugh”, Jack rolled onto his side, then his stomach. He breathed into the pillows, taking the one right underneath his face into his hands and grabbing it, holding it up to bury himself in it in a wish to sink into the softness that now held no comfort anymore, in a wish to escape this reality that just seemed to have it out for him. It drowned out the distant sound of machinery still whirring away somewhere in the distance, drowned out the footsteps coming from above, but it did not make the suffocating feeling inside his chest fade away.  
Despite his hesitation and disgust he knew there was no other way but to do as he was told, and so Jack stood up. With a pounding still in his chest that he wanted nothing more than to ignore, he got ready, knowing fully well that it would take him more than only five minutes. He briefly wondered what the “consequences” for that would be. 

Jack didn’t look at himself in the mirror, refusing to see what would soon inevitably turn into an unsightly mess again at the hands of a man who made him wish that murder was just a tad less illegal and more socially accepted.  
When he finally set his hesitant feet outside, the artificial air that touched his skin felt colder than usual.


End file.
